


The Space Between

by RishiDiams



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 07:25:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RishiDiams/pseuds/RishiDiams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor is blind-sided by Rose's sudden blatant sexual need, but is this simply a product of her going too long without or is it something more serious?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Story title and song lyrics are courtesy of my other favorite David John, of the Dave Matthews Band.

We're strange allies  
With warring hearts  
What wild-eyed beast you be  
\- "The Space Between," Dave Matthews Band

  


"No, I'm telling you, Rose," the Doctor laughed as they approached the TARDIS, "he fancied you. Quite a handsome example of an Asys'a male, too." He unlocked the TARDIS and allowed her to step inside before him.

"He had spikes all around his..." Rose gestured to her torso as they walked together up the ramp.

"Yes, of course he did. He may have looked like a porcupine to you, but to female Asys'a he's a well-endowed stag. Face it, Rose, you managed to collect another pretty boy."

She scoffed and slapped him playfully on the shoulder. "Well, that pretty boy smelled like last week's garbage. I'm going to go shower. And then... dinner?"

He was already tinkering with the console, probably researching their next stop, but looked up at her suggestion. "Dinner sounds good."

Rose bounded off and was already stripping her clothes off before her bedroom door closed behind her. "Ugh," she said, dropping each piece down the laundry chute. "Definitely not pretty."

She turned on the shower and stepped in immediately. Another benefit of a sentient ship, the water was always the perfect temperature. Rose adjusted the shower heads for full body and just let the water massage her. A few minutes passed before she reached for the soap and began washing herself. A tiny breathless moan echoed through the bathroom the first time the towel brushed across her nipples, followed immediately by another as she repeated the motion.

Without another thought, Rose slipped a hand between her thighs and ran one finger along her swollen clit. "Oh!" she gasped and the towel hit the floor of the shower. In seconds she was working her body in earnest, her climax already building. The water hitting her skin beat out one rhythm as her fingers employed another, ruthlessly pumping into her tightness. Her other hand caressed her breasts, exploring and pinching the soap-slicked skin.

It was an accidental press of the heel of her hand against her clit that sent her over, screaming as the feeling of release rushed over her. Rose stumbled, but managed to stay upright as the aftershocks of her orgasm pulsed against her still-buried fingers. It took several deep breaths before she could gather the strength to pull her fingers out and a moment of confusion before she remembered what she'd been doing before the urge to masturbate had overwhelmed her.

She picked up the towel and finished washing herself methodically, ignoring the slight tingling of her skin as just an after-effect of her orgasm. Turning off the water, Rose stepped out of the shower and wrapped a dry towel around herself. Steam from the bathroom billowed into her bedroom when she opened the door, not realizing she hadn't yet actually dried herself until her still-wet body shivered in the sudden coolness.

She picked out a pair of functional cotton pajamas, long sleeved with long trousers, and a set of completely naughty underclothes, a silk and lace bra and matching hip hugger knickers. Rose laid the clothes on the bed and dried her body, again convincing herself that her obvious signs of arousal were only symptoms of something else. Her painfully erect nipples were a product of the cool air and the sensitivity of her clit was only because of what she'd done in the shower. Her overheated skin was because of the hot water itself.

She stepped into the knickers and drew them up her body, unable to suppress the tiny shiver of delight at the feeling of the silk against her skin. It wasn't until she clasped the bra over her swollen breasts that Rose realized she was never going to be able to face him in her current condition. She laid back on the bed, planting her feet on the duvet, her knees in the air. It took no time at all, and she didn't even have to move the knickers aside to do it. A few gentle circles on the silk above her clit and she was climaxing again, her hips arching up from the bed as she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

Her knees splayed to either side of her, Rose just lay there fighting the urge to fall into a deep sleep. She didn't know what had come over her, but twice in one afternoon was highly unusual. Finally rousing herself enough to stand, she rethought the silk underwear but decided to keep it. She dressed in the pajamas and went off in search of the Doctor.

* * *

She was embarrassed, he realized as Rose joined him in the galley. Her heart rate and breathing were both elevated. Her face bore two red splotches right above her cheekbones and he could smell the evidence of what she'd been up to despite the overlay of her floral soap. Thanks to the TARDIS and his own heightened senses, he always knew what she did in the privacy of her room, but considering typical human hang-ups about such things, he'd been very careful to never mention it. However, with all of their talk of his superior biology, he was relatively certain she suspected he could tell, hence the embarrassment.

Each time it happened, it only confirmed that she was a healthy young woman with a perfectly normal sexual appetite. It would tear them apart eventually, he was sure of that. One day she would meet a man - or a male, he corrected himself, there was no reason to believe said man had to be Human - who would be able to offer her all of the things he couldn't, and then she'd be gone. 

He would miss her, once the inevitable happened, but there was no reason he had to be miserable about it now. So, as they moved around each other in the galley, each preparing a different component of their evening meal, he gently guided them back into the same comfortable routine they'd established when he still wore leather. Their laughter and playful banter only increased as her embarrassment faded, so by the time dinner was ready they were back to normal. 

They ate and he teased her again about the attentions of the Asys'a prince. "You know, Rose, he may have been sizing you up for his harem."

"Shut up!"

"No, really, there was a moment when I thought he might make you an offer you literally could not have refused, but then I remembered it was still summer and the Asys'a only mate in winter. You wouldn't want to be there then, pheromones zinging through the air, males claiming females like property."

Rose stood and picked up his empty plate, leaning over him far more than was necessary. "It would be nice to be claimed once in a while." Her mouth was right by his ear, her voice low, teasing, yet... not. He found it difficult to breathe as the air heated between them for a moment. Then, the moment was over and she was moving away from him to put their dishes in the sink, and he could almost believe that he had imagined it.

He felt like it was his responsibility to break the tension between them, but she was dressed for a night in, so his immediate thought of suggesting they leave the Vortex and land somewhere died almost before it was fully formed. Being alone together inside the TARDIS was intimate, especially in the evenings when Rose was winding down. So, while he would be content to sit in the library reading for hours, that kind of comfortable evening activity only seemed to heighten the intimacy. 

Her thoughts must have been running along the same lines as his, because when she turned away from the sink he saw that her breathing was elevated again, those same two red splotches high on her cheeks. A discreet sniff of the air told him the rest of the story: Rose was aroused. The galley seemed to shrink two sizes and once again he found himself struggling to breathe. His physical reaction surprised him, usually he had much better control of himself. He needed to get out, he needed --

"How about a movie?" 

"Sounds good," he managed to say, though he wanted anything but. "You go pick something, eh? And I'll join you in a minute."

Rose paused briefly as she passed him, but she continued out of the galley without another word. The Doctor stayed in his seat, slowing time inside the TARDIS slightly to allow himself to focus. He'd never let her get to him like that before, didn't understand why his control had slipped even such a tiny bit. His reasons for not getting involved with Rose were still valid, and he cataloged them as he forced his body to obey him.

  
Finally, he stood and left the galley, allowing time to resume its normal speed. Rose would never know the difference, and he was only a few steps behind her when she stepped into the theater. He sat in 'his' spot, a corner of the couch, and waited while Rose flipped through the movie listings, seemingly choosing something at random before joining him. The couch could seat four people comfortably, but she snuggled right up to him. 

Once Rose was seated, the lights dimmed automatically and the movie started. He didn't recognize the movie at first; really, he paid it little mind as his arm slipped casually over Rose's shoulders. He could still smell her arousal, tempered a bit now, but he realized in hindsight that it might have been wiser for him to claim a chair to himself. It was too late to move, though, with her body already pressing against his.

They were less than 30 minutes into the movie when he recognized it. Ahead of its time, pioneering an entire genre, the _Voyage dans la Lune_ of the 22nd century: _Yu'ue_ _Fawairi,_ otherwise known as _Persistent Heart._

  
The first romantic film highlighting a cross-species relationship.

He knew there was no way Rose could have possibly guessed what movie she'd selected, the title and insert were all written in the original Chitran. Yes, now that he focused, he could tell that they were watching it _in Chitran_ , the TARDIS having elected to not use the English subtitles and simply translate for them instead. As he debated whether or not to cut the viewing short, Rose shifted against him, bringing her feet up onto the couch and stretching her legs out. She stayed that way for only a minute before moving again, this time to lay down, her head pillowed on his lap.

The scent of her arousal almost immediately doubled. He tried to ignore it, but it was having much the same effect on him as it had in the galley. Fifty minutes into the movie he stretched two minutes into ten and filled the time trying to clear the smell of Rose from his nostrils. It worked, but only to a point, however his efforts were rendered moot when he allowed time to flow normally again and Rose began mewling softly against his leg.

  
Her body was writhing on the couch in tiny controlled motions as she pressed her thighs together and rocked her hips. A Human man might have suspected what she was doing, but _he_ was certain as she filled all of his superior senses, save taste. The worst part was that he couldn't pull away from her, couldn't stand and leave her alone with her obvious need, without destroying the illusion of ignorance he had stood behind for so long.

Her hands flinched towards her core once and then again, never quite reaching, as she fought against the desire for intimate contact. The Doctor realized he'd been wrong about the worst part. His body's traitorous response to her was far worse. He'd never seen her in this state before, nearly unhinged with want, and he wanted to help her, to feel her come apart at his touch. She was so ripe, it would take no effort at all, a whisper, the faintest brush of his hand... or tongue. His hand clenched around the armrest.

Just when he'd decided that he could sit still feigning ignorance no longer, Rose jumped up from the couch and muttered some ridiculous apology about being tired before rushing from the room. He let her go, allowed the minutes to stretch out at their normal pace as the distance between them increased. His hand released the arm rest and then clamped down on it again. What the hell had just happened?

The Space Between  
Your heart and mine  
Is the space we'll fill with time  
\- "The Space Between," Dave Matthews Band

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Look at us spinning out in  
The madness of a roller coaster  
\- "The Space Between," Dave Matthews Band

  


Rose had avoided him for the rest of the night. After hurrying back to her room from the theater, she closed the door, praying that he wouldn't come looking for her and he hadn't. She had never been so turned on in all of her life, and it had taken bringing herself to orgasm three more times to finally feel sated enough to allow sleep to take her.

In the morning she felt hung-over and unsure how to face him after her behavior last night. The butterflies in her stomach only got more active as she dressed and went to find him. He had to know why she'd bolted from the theater; with all of their joking about his superior Time Lord senses, he could not have missed her little performance on the couch. God, she'd practically masturbated right there on his lap.

"I'm thinking Kalou," he said without preamble as she entered the console room. "Settled by colonists from Hawaii in 2312, it boasts 15 luxury beaches on the mainland alone. There are areas where you can walk dozens of kilometres and never step on anything but sand." He started moving as he began the complicated dance around the console that would set their coordinates. His words matched his tempo as he picked up momentum, banging levers and twisting dials with flair. "But that's not all. It's a complete hospitality world, thousands of spas, restaurants, shopping malls." He waggled his eyebrows at the last and she giggled despite herself. "And you'll never guess the best part. Not one single revolution, terrorist attack, planetary outbreak, or natural disaster in its entire 1400 year existence. The planet eventually shut down due to global cooling, made the beaches pretty uncomfortable, if you know what I mean." Finally, he stilled, his hand hovering over the button that would pull them from the vortex and send them hurtling towards the planet he'd chosen for them.

"What do you think?" he asked.

Rose hesitated.

"It's the perfect thing for cabin fever," he added.

And suddenly she understood. He _knew._ Not suspected, but _knew_. And this was his way of defusing the tension from the night before. So, was this some sort of reverse apology? And what was he actually offering her? An opportunity to take a break from the confines of the TARDIS? Tacit permission for her to go forth on Kalou's beaches and find herself a compatible, willing male? 

The thrill that passed through her in response to that thought decided her. She nodded to the Doctor and rushed off to find her swimsuit.

* * *

Rose returned to the console room just as they materialized on Kalou. She was dressed top to bottom in TARDIS blue, a bold color against her fair skin. And she was certainly showing quite a bit of said skin. Her top consisted of two tiny triangles which tied behind her neck, but somehow those two scraps of cloth managed to give enough lift to create a generous cleavage. She had a translucent beach wrap slung low on her waist, but he could tell that it rested several inches above her low-rise bikini bottom. Her legs were strong and well-defined from all of the running they did, and with each step she took they alternated being bared in their entirety as they peaked out from the wrap.

She looked amazing. She looked like a woman men would fight over. It took several deep calming breaths before the Doctor could manage words that weren't, _you are not leaving the TARDIS dressed like that, young lady._ Instead, he spoke a few words of quiet approval as she passed him on her way to the doors.

Rose seemed to notice him for the first time since she'd walked back into the room. "Oh," she said, taking in his brown pinstripes and trainers. "Aren't you going to change?"

"No." Changing clothes at each new location was something his companions did. It was part of the experience. If necessary, he could use a perception filter to alter his appearance, but typically he managed just fine in the suit.

She closed the distance between them, her hips swaying hypnotically. With two swift tugs she pulled his tie free from his jacket, seemingly unaware that she was dragging him along with it. "You are a stodgy, stuffed shirt, Time Lord," she said in mock exasperation as she unraveled the tie and then slowly pulled it free from his neck.

"Rose --" he started, stopping again when his voice broke.

She eyed him, one brow raised in silent challenge as she threaded the tie around her own neck and then pulled the ends up to use it as a headband. She knotted it behind her left ear, leaving the broad end to trail down across her collarbone and tease at the top of her breast. It was his favorite tie, brown with blue and red swirls and, against her blonde hair, it complimented the overall look. But it was _his_ , and she was wearing it, incorrectly, insouciantly, and invitingly, practically daring him to take it back from her.

His hands itched to do just that. One would hand come up slowly, giving her enough time to run away from this thing that she had encouraged, before grabbing the tie and pulling it gently away from her hair. It would then fall to the floor, forgotten, of course, because he could see that Rose was not in a mood to run away. The other hand would slide around her waist, taking in the softness and heat of her skin as he pulled her closer to him. Rose would burn him, he suspected, perhaps not in the literal sense, but things between them would be incendiary. A shiver went down his spine. Rassilon, was he fantasizing about Rose? Right here in the console room with her standing mere centimetres away from him?

...Centimetres? When had that happened? Rather, a better question would be: which one of them had moved? He tried to take a deep breath, but realized that his respiratory by-pass had apparently engaged.

He straightened, creating distance between them through a few subtle motions. "Ready to go, then?"

Some emotion flitted across her face - disappointment? - before vanishing. Then she gave him a brittle, forced smile, turned away from him and headed for the doors without another word. He watched as the mantle of the beautiful, sensual woman who had entered the console room a few minutes earlier descended upon her again. And then she was gone, the only remaining sound that of the door closing behind her.

So many thoughts passed through his mind at once. One: Something was definitely going on with Rose. What, he still didn't know much past the obvious. Two: In that moment standing there before him, she would have accepted him as a lover. Sure, they'd moved to a phase of their relationship where hand-holding, hugs, and the occasional chaste kiss were the norm, but this went far beyond that. Three: His own reaction to her suggested that physical intimacy was an outcome he would not be opposed to either.

A sharp rebuke came from the TARDIS as if to say: _Not opposed to? Listen to you, trying to characterize your feelings for Rose in such trite terms._

Okay, fine. Three, amended: He wanted her. Desperately, he added somewhat reluctantly, if the last 24 hours were any indication, though he was not sure it was safe to admit such a thing even in the confines of his own mind. He'd barely been able to keep his hands off of her. Four: She was brilliant in more ways than simply intelligence. She had saved his life and found worth in him when he had believed there was none to be found.

Five: Rassilon and his Policy of Non-Interference be damned, did he really want to break all of his personal rules concerning his behavior with his companions? If so, Six: How far was he willing to go to have her? And, compounding that, Seven: Rose was obviously looking for a lover. Would he be content if that was all she was looking for? Because, if not, Eight: He'd never been in a relationship with a Human, what would Rose require of him in order to keep her? Nine: Assuming all of the above, could he survive when the inevitable happened in 60 or 70 years? Ten: Could he imagine a future where he didn't have her?

Eleven: He had just let her walk out of the TARDIS dressed like _that_ without him while he stood around _thinking_ about what he wanted.

With a flick of his fingers, he loosened the top button of his shirt and followed her.

She was easy to find, but approaching her was another matter entirely. She was several metres down the beach and had already developed an entourage. Males of six different species had taken up orbit around her, including - yes, he was sure of it - one Beta Curuniri, a species that didn't even have male and female distinctions. Oh, for the love of - the Doctor watched as a beach waiter, complete with tray of drinks, began closing in on Rose using his job as an excuse to get closer to her.

Was she _flirting_ with the Beta Curuniri? She was. And the little creature hardly knew what to do with itself.

He hurried to catch up to her, noting absently that he was not the only one doing so, but the backs of the males clamoring for Rose's attention were like a brick wall and the Doctor found himself temporarily halted in his efforts to get to her. How had she managed to bewitch so many when his time sense told him that she'd only been out of his sight for about two minutes? 

Rose was managing to keep the Beta Curuniri at bay but still interested while she diverted some of her attention to a rather pretty-boy male from Tani Adon. He remembered now why the ancient Greeks had been so enraptured when first introduced the Adoni. This specimen was nicely muscled and well-tanned, with features that could have been chiseled out of marble, and hair most Earth women would kill for. And he had his hands wrapped around Rose's waist.

He used every wile he had to make his way through the press of bodies, finally coming to a complete stop two rows back. He'd been tempted by her, certainly, but he'd known her for years, they had a relationship, a rapport. Okay, well, maybe she had been a little more... needy for the last couple of days. He tried not to keep track, but when was the last time Rose had been with a lover?

A Sceptrian forced his way to the fore of the crowd surrounding Rose, the hole that had appeared in his wake closing an instant before the Doctor would have made it through as well. The Sceptrian was massive, and it was the work of a moment for him to push the Adoni aside and insinuate himself in Rose's arms. But that didn't make any sense, Sceptrians mated for life and this one already wore a ldolbh on his right wrist.

Nothing could overpower a Sceptrian bond, no exceptions; a mated pair would die contented in each other's arms after a long, happy life together. Unfaithfulness was a physical impossibility, but that didn't seem to slow him down. Thanks to the Doctor's height, he was able to see over the heads in front of him that Rose was reveling in the attention, her eyes bright, her face and neck flushed; she was clearly aroused. And teasing both the Sceptrian and the Beta Curuniri, all while consoling the Adoni in a way that stated beyond a doubt he was not out of the running for whatever favors she planned to bestow.

Somehow she was doing something to all of these males. The Doctor looked out at the sea of faces surrounding them and saw a member of a species that mated in decade cycles rising to a murderous edge as he was jostled around. Several species where the male altered their appearance with plumage in order to attract a mate were doing the best they could with beach towels and umbrellas. Four minutes had passed since Rose had set foot on Kalou, but he'd been alone with her since they'd left Asys, surely he'd - Asys. Mating season. Oh, Rassilon, he was an imbecile.

It had been so long ago he'd forgotten, a defense mechanism against an early companion's urges. It was so much easier to ignore blatant come-ons when you took away the body's natural responses. Sexual attraction was, after all, easily boiled down into a series of chemical reactions. So, he'd blocked his own pheromone receptors, hid behind the faces of old men to discourage unwanted advances, and wore enough layers to render physical contact almost meaningless. It had been that way for hundreds of years, he'd never expected to find a companion who would give him cause to want to change it.

But if Rose had affected him so strongly while his typical defenses were up, what could she have done to him had they not existed? For an instant he debated clearing his receptors. Would he become one of them, mindlessly preening and pressing for Rose's attention? Or would he be able to keep enough of himself intact to get them out before this ceased being a game and turned into something else? What would he do to her if he was the one who managed to catch her? That thought sobered him quite effectively and quelled any urges to do something so blatantly stupid.

He brought himself up to his full height and slipped his psychic paper and sonic screwdriver out of his pockets. He began barking orders as he moved forward, surprising himself when the males in front of him created a hole for him to pass through to where Rose stood. He flashed the physic paper generally and also specifically whenever challenged, and was happy to see at least a few of the males backing away from whatever it was telling them.

Once he was inside the center of the circle, the Sceptrian barked at him gruffly and the Doctor flashed the physic paper at him with a pointed reminder that his mate was elsewhere. The large, green scaled alien shook himself as though coming out from under a spell and jerked himself away from Rose so quickly that he backed into three other challengers, bowling them over in his hurry to get away. But it was doing no good, the press of bodies was moving in the other direction and the Sceptrian could go no farther.

The Doctor filled the void the Sceptrian had left at Rose's side, trying not to read too much into it when she curled around him more intimately than he'd seen her do with any of the others so far. The Beta Curuniri was banished with nothing more than a dismissive wave from him and a lack of further attention from Rose, but the Adoni was not nearly so easily convinced.

"Your psychic paper will have no effect on me. Give me the female."

Adoni mating customs... Adoni mating customs... By the Untempered Schism, why could he not recall Adoni mating customs?

"No," the Doctor replied, trying not to let his concern for the crowd surrounding them show. "She's mine."

"She was mine before she was yours."

"I think you'll find that's not correct either." He jumped slightly as Rose untucked his shirt and slipped her hot hand in to tease at his waist, jolting to life urges that he'd left dormant for a very long time. She let loose a tiny moan of pleasure at the contact that he had to bite his lip to prevent himself from echoing. Rassilon, he'd almost forgotten the mindless state she was in.

The Adoni took a step forward, "Stand aside, Human. Your life is but an insignificant speck against the Tani Adon, you know nothing of how to properly please the female."

Human? Buddy, did you judge wrong. Suddenly, it came back to him. The Adoni were terminally insecure, genetically programmed to defer to a superior male. As with the Sceptrian, once the other alien had proven his physical superiority, the Adoni had backed away. It perpetuated the best of each aspect of the Adoni that only the fastest, the smartest, and the strongest were allowed to mate with the females. "I've got two words for you, Adoni, _Time Lord_. And you might not fall for the tricks of psychic paper, but even with your limited psychic abilities," he sneered for good measure as he opened the leather wallet again and flashed it at the other man, "you can see that this is not a fabrication."

His one salvo trumped, the Adoni backed away, bowing. "My Lord."

The sudden absence of an immediate threat brought the Doctor's attention back to Rose's fingers, which were now tracing circles along his spine. He shivered and tried to push away any thoughts of how she had just accidentally mis-conjugated a _very_ spectacularly dirty phrase in Gallifreyan against his skin. It was the kind of phrase the entire Council would have denied the existence of. And possibly threatened anyone who dared use it. Yeah, it was that salacious.

The secondary threat, the crowd around them, realizing that no one had yet stepped forward to challenge him, produced three more likely candidates. The time for psychic paper had passed, so he slipped it back into his pocket. He twisted the sonic screwdriver and adjusted the setting before holding it high above his head. He wrapped his other arm around Rose and held her tightly to him, tucking his head down so that their cheeks were touching. This was going to hurt.

He pressed the button on the sonic screwdriver and hated himself for having to use Rose as support when his knees threatened to buckle. The sound was almost deafening as all around them the males who had been trying to catch Rose's attention began to fall, some screaming, some simply mewling in pain until, one by one, they all began to black out.

Slowly, the noise died as he and Rose were left standing in an ever-widening circle of unconscious males of all species, until there was only one voice remaining and then it, too, quieted when the Doctor was finally able to recognize it as his own and turn off the sonic screwdriver. He tried to stand straight again, but faltered and took another second to compose himself. Rose took advantage of the situation and pressed her lips against his neck, her tongue peeking out from between them to taste him in a series of small, darting licks. Rassilon, Rose, why did it have to be like this?

When he could finally stand, he looked around them and for the first time was able to get an idea of how wide-spread this was. They were completely surrounded; the crush of males was at least 15 deep in most directions, but as much as 20 in others. They had apparently materialized on a very populated beach, but even still, she must have attracted every male who had passed within 30 metres of her. The TARDIS was only five metres away and already he could see a new group of males heading directly for them. Even as he tried to assess the situation, he watched a pair of Kaloun natives run their small boat up onto the beach not far from where they stood and start to disembark.

He gathered her up in his arms, not willing to take the risk that she might trip on one of the hundreds of bodies surrounding them and carried her to the TARDIS as quickly as he could, grateful when he could finally close the door on Kalou. He'd gotten her back home only slightly rumpled and extremely man-handled, but in one piece. But what really terrified him was, had he realized what was happening soon enough to save her life?

  


You know you went off like a devil  
In a church in the middle of a crowded room  
\- "The Space Between," Dave Matthews Band

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: this chapter is rated M+ and could be considered dub-con.
> 
> * * *

The Space Between  
What's wrong and right  
Is where you'll find me hiding, waiting for you  
\- "The Space Between," Dave Matthews Band

  


His feet continued walking, through the console room and directly to the infirmary. Rose's arms were twined around his neck, but she wasn't idle in his arms, wriggling against him and trying to pull him down to kiss her. A Human would have dropped her by now or given in to the kiss. Of course, a Human would have not been immune to her over-active pheromones in the first place, and therefore would never have been put in this situation.

He laid Rose down on an exam table in the infirmary, resisting when she tried to knock him off balance enough to join her. "No, Rose," he said gently as he extracted himself from her arms.

He tried to walk away from her, but only got a few steps before she hopped down from the table and approached him from behind, her hands going unerringly for the spot where she'd untucked his shirt. In that absent way he processed scientific information, he noted that her body temperature was rising. She was definitely higher than 37 degrees now, and he didn't think it had anything to do with the five minutes she'd spent on the Kalou beach.

In an infinitely more conscious manner, he had to stop himself from pressing back into her caresses. It had been centuries since he'd allowed himself the luxury of a lover and even then he had not let go completely, the way he suspected he would be able to with Rose. Some other time. He turned into her embrace, but only to guide her back to the exam table. When she wasn't insensible with need.

Rose gladly moved with him, her hands tugging the rest of his shirt up from his trousers, until she realized that he was just going to leave her on the table again. She pouted and pulled at his neck, "Please, Doctor."

He stopped, shocked that she was still aware enough to recognize him. "Rose?"

"It hurts," She pressed her thighs together and inched closer to him.

The Doctor sat on the edge of the exam table and smoothed back her hair. "I'm trying to fix it, Rose," he said softly. "Really, I am." Rose took his hand and brought it to her mouth, biting the skin just below his pinky finger hard enough to cause pain before laving at the spot with her tongue. His eyes flew open wide and the fingers of his other hand danced across her bare stomach, itching to find their way up to Rose's temple.

He could find out exactly what was wrong with her. It would be simple and would only take a few seconds. Except, in the state he was rapidly finding himself, the Doctor wasn't sure he could be trusted to keep a telepathic connection strictly clinical.

"Rose, I have to get up and go to that terminal," he pointed, but she wasn't looking, "to examine you. Do you understand? I can't help you unless I know what's wrong."

Rose groaned something that might have been assent.

"No, Rose, I need a clearer answer than that. I need to know if I can leave you here. You're going to need to stay as still as possible. Now, I can restrain you, but I don't want to if I don't have to."

Her eyes met his and he saw how large her pupils were dilated. "Are you going to tie me up, Doctor? I think I'd like that." He was already reaching for the restraints when she shook her head violently then looked at him again. "No. Don't. I'll stay. I'll try to stay still."

He'd been wrong. She wasn't insensible. Rose was still in there fighting whatever this was. "That's my brave girl."

"Doctor," she said as he turned away from her. "Don't be away long."

He shivered at the blatant invitation in her voice. They were not going to be able to come back from this, he realized. He'd never be able to feign indifference to her again and Rose would never be able to look at him without remembering the things she'd said and done.

True to her word, she allowed him to get to the terminal this time and he began immediately pressing buttons. When he brought his attention back to her, however, it took everything in his power to stay where he was. She was straining against the invisible bonds of her own willpower, her hands clenched at her sides as her back arched off the table. His hearts broke to see the pained grimace on her face, the tension in her muscles.

"Doctor..."

"Just a few more seconds, Rose. It's almost done." Please, he begged any deity choosing to listen, don't let his suspicions be correct. The preliminary results started coming through and he slipped his glasses on to read them.

"Love those glasses," Rose said from the exam table. He looked up at where she lay, seemingly at ease, staring at him through heavily-lidded eyes.

He'd never fantasized about Rose, but if he had this was the image of her that would have filled those fantasies: beautiful, relaxed, confident in her own sexuality, and studying him with barely restrained hunger. He had a moment to lick his lips. And then she flinched and the image was shattered.

His eyes flicked back to the results and he read them all in one sweep. He was right. She'd been infected with Asys'a venom. He'd not seen the prince do it, but apparently the Doctor had been correct when he had teased Rose that she was being sized up for a harem.

A male Asys'a selected a female and infected her, activating her desire to procreate. It would have felt something like the bite of a mosquito, a tiny sting quickly covered by anesthetic, but at some time, the prince had kissed Rose, be it on her hand, her cheek, or even her lips. 

He typed a query into the terminal. The Asys'a only mated in winter; it had been quite balmy during their trip. It was one of the reasons the Doctor had not worried about exactly this happening to Rose. The result of his query scrolled across the screen. It was just his - their - luck, of course, that they had landed during the leading edge of the warmest winter ever recorded on Asys. 

Even still, the fact that she had made if off of the planet's surface at all before it affected her amazed him. It must have been the perfect confluence of events: her humanity plus the fact that it had not been full-on winter yet, plus the abnormal heat, all working together to help her body resist the venom as long as she had.

The venom itself would have metabolized instantly and since the TARDIS only scanned them for foreign contaminant when they entered or exited the ship, the tiny bit of extra sexual desire Rose had left Asys'a with would not have registered. But, being Human and Rose, that little bit of sexual desire had bothered her enough that she would have done something about it. Which, in turn, would only have compounded the problem. How many times had she masturbated after she'd been infected? It had to have been more than just the one time when they'd been on the couch, because by that time she'd already been so far gone she'd hardly been able to restrain herself in his presence.

An Asys'a female would have known that self-gratification increased the effect of the venom, and may, if left alone after being infected, have masturbated once to heighten the sensation. But ultimately, there was only one cure for Asys'a venom, in fact, quite a few cultures used it as an aphrodisiac, which is why he'd prayed so desperately that her problem had been caused by something else. Because who develops a cure for a species' sole method of procreation? Well, except for Rassilon and the Time Lords, of course, he thought wryly.

Rose would only get worse unless she was - and he hated to even think the word - mated. Successful procreation, thankfully, was not necessary, but she needed a lover or the desire for one would eventually drive her mad. It would block the imperative for all other necessary functions. Already Rose exhibited symptoms of a reduced appetite; it had been 16 hours since she had picked at her dinner and she'd made no mention of being hungry. She was focused, and would remain that way until it was done or until her body shut down.

He felt her first, when he should have sensed her move, as she slipped underneath his arm, insinuating herself between him and the terminal. "You're going to make a girl feel unwanted, leaving me over there all alone while you're standing here looking so sexy."

"Oh, Rose," he said, lowering his face to hers. "I am so, so sorry."

"It's okay. You'll just have to make it up to me."

Leave her to die, offer her a stranger, bring her home to Mickey, or step forward as a volunteer? Any option would destroy his chances of keeping her for himself.

But really, there was no choice to make. He touched his lips to hers in a feather-light kiss. Rose made a soft noise of acceptance and then tried to follow his mouth as he pulled away from her. The Doctor put his hands on her shoulders to hold her in place. He had to ask, needed to hear her give permission, even though he knew that in her current state her answer would be meaningless. "Rose, are you okay with this, being with me?"

Her hand slipped up under his shirt and the muscles of his stomach contracted against her heat; he'd forgotten she'd untucked the shirt. "I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

Rose had only a moment to reflect on his expression before his lips covered hers, hungry and needy. _He seems sad_ , the thought flitted through her mind before it was swept away by sensation. His hands cupped her face gently, completely contrasting the urgency of his tongue as it demanded entrance to her mouth.

It was hard to think between the growing ache radiating from her core and the sinful things he was doing to her mouth, but she wanted his hands on her, moving with the same intensity he was pouring into their kiss. He was so cool to the touch, a balm to her heat and she wanted more.

She was panting for air when he broke the kiss, but the Doctor was not even winded. He took her hand from underneath his shirt and twined his fingers with hers, guiding her out of the infirmary. He stopped short at the sight of a door directly across the hall, a door Rose recognized as her own even though her room was normally down a completely different hallway.

"Thank you, old girl," he muttered then pushed the door open.

Rose followed him into her room and waited while he closed the door behind them, giving them the illusion of further privacy despite the fact that they were the only beings aboard a sentient ship. She was ready for him when he turned back to her, pushing his jacket off of his shoulders to land in a heap behind him before he could even mount a protest.

He let her undress him at her own frantic pace until he stood naked before her, only then did he move under his own power. With a flick of his fingers, he released the simple tie that held Rose's beach wrap and it fell to the floor beside the puddle of his clothes. Her hands were moving all over him, chest, shoulders, arms, neck, back, but he kept her from going any lower.

Rose surged closer to him as he ran a finger down the back of her leg and he used her momentum to pull her completely into his arms. Her legs wrapped instinctively around his waist and they groaned in unison as the head of his neglected erection pressed against her core.

It was three large steps to the bed and then he was laying her down, following when she refused to release her grip on him. He dropped tiny kisses at the line of her bikini top, his tongue darting teasingly beneath the material, but not actually doing anything to soothe her building ache. His fingers dipped between them and his hum of approval told her eloquently that he'd found her bikini bottom soaked.

His mouth moved with purpose then, pushing first the left triangle of her top aside and then the right, worshiping every centimetre of her skin as he revealed it until her breasts were bared for him. He laved and sucked, taking care to pay attention to each nipple, until they were both tightly bunched, before moving on. 

He was quickly becoming a master at tiny, teasing kisses and he placed a line of them down her stomach to her waist. The bikini bottom was a hiphugger and so there was plenty of landscape for him to kiss. Rose was certain she was going to go mad before he took this any further. Then his hands were on her hips, and he slipped his thumbs beneath the waistband of her bikini bottom. He guided it off her body, moving with it so that he was even with her waist as he slipped it off of her feet. His hands were so large and yet gentle as he pushed her knees apart and moved between her legs.

He nuzzled at her clit, breathing deeply of her scent, but doing nothing more as the minutes stretched out until, suddenly, he was. His tongue teased against her opening then back up to circle her clit before diving back down to thrust inside of her. He hummed his own appreciation against her most sensitive skin in perfect counterpoint to the hedonistic noises she was making. Unable to help herself, Rose bucked against him as he returned to her clit, sucking it and brushing the flat of his tongue against it.

He tsk'd softly when her motions broke the contact and planted his hands at her waist to hold her still so that he could return to his ministrations. There was so much strength hidden beneath his lean exterior that she was powerless to escape the delicious torture he was inflicting on her. With one more flick of his tongue, she came apart, whimpering and moaning, as he moved his mouth back down to her opening where he lapped at her juices.

He stopped as she stilled and rested his face against her thigh, his breath ghosting across nerve endings that were still tingling. "That was amazing," she whispered.

He didn't reply, just moved up her body so that their eyes were level and covered her mouth with his. He settled against her as their tongues dueled, but blatantly ignored the invitation of her hips as they curved up to meet him.

"Doctor, please," she begged, pulling away from him as she gasped for air.

He rested on his elbows, their faces separated only by their breath, and every centimetre of their bodies touching except the parts that ached. And then, finally, blessedly, he shifted his hips and parted her entrance with the tip of his cock.

"Rose, I --" he stopped, biting his lip, before he continued slowly pressing into her. His whole body shuddered when he came to rest inside of her, and then he pulled out slowly and pushed back, filling her again.

He repeated the motion and in no time he had established a rhythm that was just short of punishing. He was holding her so still the only movement was that of him inside of her and the bed bouncing beneath them. Already Rose could feel the tension quickly building inside of her again. She placed a kiss where his neck met his shoulder then shocked herself as a particularly delicious thrust caused her to bite down on him.

He loosed an inarticulate cry that was part surprise part pure pleasure and redoubled his efforts. When Rose's eyes uncrossed, she saw the mark she'd left on him, a perfect imprint of her teeth that would probably bruise but thankfully had not drawn blood. However, she was only able to focus on it for an instant before she slammed into a second orgasm.

He made another noise, one she recognized between her screams as undisguised male pride, but his strokes didn't slow until she calmed again. He kissed her neck in the exact spot where she'd bitten him, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of amusement and carnality. Then he settled on his knees, upright against her supine body and he began thrusting again.

Oh, this was. _.. yes_. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her back against him with each thrust. Her tiny grunts of acceptance became outright cries of pleasure as he changed the angle of his intrusion to bump against a spot some Human men still believed was myth.

A millennium passed. She lost track of everything as her body became one giant coiled spring twisting tighter and tighter, but still it continued. An eon passed. He showed no signs of tiring or stopping, but still her body only wound tighter. Time became meaningless as it stretched out before them. Was this what it meant to be a Time Lord?

His hand left her hip to move between them and with the tiniest brush of his finger against her clit he shattered her. Rose shrieked, her whole body coming up from the bed to grasp at him. Finally his strokes slowed and he chuckled while wrapping his arm around her back to guide her back down to the bed. He pushed languidly into her as she came down from her climax.

He was placing kisses along her collarbone and Rose groaned, becoming aware for the first time of the soreness in her throat and between her legs. He exhaled hard against her skin as she pushed into his strokes and Rose understood he was holding back. She dragged his face up so that she could meet his gaze. "Please."

His brow furrowed and once again she got the impression that he was somehow intensely sad. He cupped her cheek and Rose felt a tingling in the back of her mind, but it was gone an instant later and then the pressure of his hips increased. With a cry his rhythm became erratic and she felt the first spurts of his cool semen hitting the wall of her cervix.

He sputtered words in a language she had only heard him speak one other time, the day he'd regenerated into his current form, right before the regeneration sickness had taken him. Rose was pretty sure he was swearing in the complicated language, but not even that could detract from the beauty of the words.

As he stilled he spoke again, his words gradually becoming more fluid, though still completely foreign to her. Rose touched a finger to the corner of his mouth.

"Sorry," he said after a moment, reverting back to English. "Are you okay?"

"What was that? It was beautiful."

"Gallifreyan. Are you okay?" he repeated.

"I'm okay."

He studied her face then looked down to where their bodies were still connected. "Rose --"

"Shhh, just lie down."

"I want to check you one last time, just to make sure." He waited for her to nod her approval before withdrawing and laying on the bed beside her. After a second or two he turned onto his side, wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him.

Rose couldn't stop the contented hum that escaped her at the feeling of his naked body against hers and the strength of his arm holding her there. "I love you." The words bubbled up from inside of her before she could think to stop them. She cringed when the sound of them reached her ears, knowing how plaintive and grasping they sounded.

He shifted against her, but despite her fears she felt him burrowing closer instead of increasing the meager space between them. "I know," he replied as he once again stilled, his voice slightly muffled by her hair. "I love you, too."

She gasped, the words so unexpected and heart-felt that she had to choke back a sob of relief, of joy. She could think of nothing to say, nothing that would convey to him what those four words meant to her.

He would know what to say if their roles were reversed, he of the inexhaustible gob. But he was utterly silent beside her, save for the sound of his breath and the steady rhythm of his hearts. And maybe that was enough, that constancy and the pressure of his body against hers, cool even after the heat of their lovemaking.

He brushed a lock of hair back from her face, his fingers lingering at her temple for just a moment. "Forever?" he whispered, and somehow that one word was perfect.

"Forever," she agreed.

His fingers pressed against her temple and she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The next morning, Rose was hit with a pang of sadness when she noticed that her monthly had arrived during the night, but she couldn't quite put a finger on why.

"So," he said cheerily a few minutes later as she entered the control room, "where to today?"

  


The Space Between  
The wicked lies we tell  
And hope to keep safe from the pain  
\- "The Space Between," Dave Matthews Band

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

There's no hope in you for me  
No corner you could squeeze me  
But I got all the time for you, love  
\- "The Space Between," Dave Matthews Band 

  
She seemed fine when she finally joined him in the control room the next morning, her mannerisms typical if a little sluggish. And no wonder, she'd gotten only about four hours of sleep the night before, less than half of her Human requirement. He'd been able to make her sleep, but he could not convince her body that she'd gotten a full eight hours.

For him, the three hours he'd allowed himself had been more than enough, but deciding to sleep in Rose's bed, even for just one night, had probably been the least wise thing he'd done all day. Sex was one thing, waking next to her on the morning after was somehow even more intimate, both of them naked, her hair a messy halo around her, their legs tangled together. Extricating himself had been... difficult.

After dressing he'd cleaned first the sheets and then her body, erasing all evidence of what they'd done. Liberal use of a dermal regenerator had healed skin and soothed muscles which would have alerted her to the fact that she'd had sex. The bite wound she'd given him, however, he'd kept.

These thoughts raced through his mind and he managed to stamp down a blush that threatened, all in less than a few seconds. "So," he said, hoping his cheery demeanor didn't ring too false to her ears, "where to today?"

As she stepped closer to him, his heightened senses informed him that at least part of his meddling with her mind and body had been successful; she was menstruating. The smell of it, which would have been unnoticeable to Humans, especially at this distance, was like a punch to the gut for him. Though he'd planned it and carried it out, a part of him still regretted his actions. But guilt was an old friend and he held it close.

"I don't know. I'm not feeling well, actually. I hate to be a spoilsport, but would you mind terribly if I just rested?"

Coming around the console, he placed his hands high on her arms, just below her short sleeves, relishing the simple contact in more ways than she could possibly imagine this morning. "Are you ill?" he asked, already probing gently at the complex block he'd created in her mind the night before, looking for any faulty construction which could lead to memory leakage. Finding none, he allowed himself to be satisfied with his handiwork, if not pleased in the typical sense of the word. She retained no memory of the dosage of Asys'a venom she'd received or the aftermath and his actions to counteract it.

"No, at least I don't think so. Just tired. I guess I didn't sleep well last night."

He knew it was more than that. He'd rushed her menses by at least five days, maybe as much as six. The preparation her body would have done in that time had been consolidated into one hour, an easy guarantee to create painful cramps.

"Well, Dr. Tyler, if that's all you think you need," he joked, the words sounding hollow and forced to his guilty ears.

She gave him a wan smile and nodded, and he released her so she could return to her room, barely stopping himself from placing a kiss on her forehead to see her off. Other than her fatigue and the pain he assumed she was experiencing as a result of her hastened menses, the Doctor was reasonably assured that Rose had suffered no ill effects from the Asys'a venom or its cure.

The TARDIS hummed a reassurance to Rose, who slid a hand down the nearest piece of coral in thanks. The Doctor was grateful Rose was facing away from him by this time, because he couldn't contain the shiver of pure delight he felt, as though her hand had run down his spine instead. Once he was sure Rose had left hearing range, he chastised the TARDIS. "Don't do that."

The answering cacophony of bells and whistles spoke eloquently of the old girl's opinions on the matter.

"I know. I know." A single whistle, the TARDIS equivalent of a raspberry. "I did what had to be done." No response.

He let her rest for most of the day, knowing that time in the TARDIS was just as relative as the ship's name implied. Morning began when Rose woke and the day ended when she retired for the evening. Since he had slept the night before it would be days before he needed to again, so he tinkered around the console to pass the time.

He knew the moment Rose left her bed, hours later, when the feeling of her bare feet touching the TARDIS floor caused him to pitch forward. He was barely able to stop himself from falling face-forward onto the console.

Immediately he righted himself and came up spitting fury. "You stop that this instant," he demanded, addressing the air. "Do you think this is some game for me? After all the years we have traveled together, the companions that have come and gone, you accuse me of trifling with this one? How dare you." There was a small ping, part apologetic, part something the Doctor could have identified, but he was too incensed to try. "How dare you," he repeated. "I did what had to be done to save her life," though, God help him, he'd enjoyed it, still ached at the memory of it. Another ping, this time insistent and the meaning penetrated his anger. Rose.

He barely had time to school his expression back to passivity before she entered the control room. "There you are. Good morning, sleepyhead." Then, he really looked at her, at the dark circles beneath her eyes, the way her arms were clenched around her midsection, and a part of him died. "Rose?"

He rushed to her side, one hand already outstretched to check her for fever.

"Doctor, it hurts."

No fever, thank goodness, but even with the manipulations he'd done to her body chemistry, the pain shouldn't be more than slightly worse than whatever cramps she experienced on a monthly basis. Something must have gone wrong. "Infirmary, now."

Rose turned to comply, the simple motion causing her to stumble. She bit back a groan and the Doctor didn't need the TARDIS to intervene for her pain to affect him viscerally. Careful not to jostle her too much, he slipped one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her shoulders, drawing her up into his arms. The TARDIS shortened the distance so that it was only a few seconds later he was laying Rose on an exam table in the infirmary.

She groaned again when his arms slipped out from underneath her, then curled into a ball on the table. He moved away from her long enough to prepare a dose of pain medication, which he then administered. Immediately the tension in her body released and he breathed a sign of relief. "Rose, I'm going to try to find out what's wrong with you." He helped her lay flat then took up a position at the head of the table, his fingers already itching to close the distance to her temples.

He stopped, clenched his hands into fists, and forced the thoughts and feelings that had rushed to the front of his mind away. He hadn't joined with her completely, had elected to remain separate for the duration of their lovemaking - had it only been a few short hours ago that he'd stolen out of her bed? Even now, dressed in his "armor," as she had once referred to his favorite pinstripe suit, and filled with concern for her well-being, he still ached to complete their joining in the deepest possible way.

Stamping those emotions even further down, he met her eyes once more and saw concern reflected back at him. Not for herself, he knew instantly, but for the brief internal battle she had just witnessed in him. His hearts tightened and he had to literally bite his tongue to prevent himself from saying something which would betray the secret he was keeping. "Just relax," he said finally. "You can close your eyes if you wish, but this should only take a moment."

She nodded, but her eyes remained focused on his face as he lightly pressed his fingers to her temples. First he checked the block, which still appeared to be stable, then he checked her hormone levels, also stable. Pulling back from the seductive connection, he moved to the terminal and tinkered with the settings briefly before scanning her. The diagnosis was instantaneous: primary dysmenorrhea, and he was able to breathe another sigh of relief.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice now calm and trusting.

"Dysmenorrhea. Quite literally: painful, debilitating cramping. Nothing to worry about, completely curable -- at least it is by the 22nd century. I'm sure I've got something around here that will do the trick." He puttered around in the cabinets before coming up with a bottle of the medicine she'd need. Opening it, he dropped one small pill onto her open palm.

"That's it?"

"That's it. Do you need water?"

In response, Rose tipped her hand up to her mouth and swallowed the pill with no difficulty. Unable to help himself, he followed the path of the pill over her full lips and down to her throat, which tightened as she swallowed. It wasn't the only thing that tightened as parts of him which were better off ignored took interest in the proceedings. It had been a little more than ten hours since he'd left her bed and it felt at least that long before he was finally able to pull himself out of the haze of remembered physical pleasure.

This meant that in the scant minutes he'd been in her presence so far he'd nearly slipped four times. If this continued, he'd have to create a block for himself, as well.

"Doctor, are you okay?"

Rose. Drawing his eyes back up to meet hers, he saw her concern for him and had to stop himself from kissing it away. Make that five times he'd slipped.

"I'm fine. Concerned about you, but fine. How are you feeling now - no, don't answer that, it's too soon for the medicine to have taken effect. How about we take a few days to just relax? No agenda, no civilizations on the brink of destruction that need saving. Just you and me, here in the TARDIS, spinning in the Vortex. Give you a chance to recover." Yeah, he'd had worse ideas. None of which were coming to mind at this exact moment, but he was certain there had been some.

Because the only thing he needed right now was a few days alone with Rose Tyler. He could barely look her in the eyes without wanting to fall back into bed with her. He had to stifle a gasp. And, Rassilon help him, as if things weren't bad enough already, he still hadn't unblocked his pheromone receptors.

* * *

There was something wrong with the Doctor. He would never admit it, but he wasn't behaving like himself. Probably just railing at the idea of being stuck in one place indefinitely until she was feeling up to whatever madness they would inevitably find themselves involved in. "We don't have to, you know, stay in the Vortex, if you don't want to. I'm feeling better already."

Whatever he was going to say, he clamped down on it then started again. "It's too late to start off today anyway. Why don't we wait until tomorrow morning? Yes, that sounds good. Doctor's orders, rest tonight and I'll re-examine you in the morning and we can make a decision then."

Rose agreed, mostly because he seemed so desperate for her to.

"I'll just --" he gestured down the corridor in the direction of the control room. "Call me if you need anything."

She let him go, more confused than ever about his behavior, but quickly becoming too tired to care. Though she had spent most of the day in bed, she'd gotten little actual sleep. She found her room and collapsed on the bed sleeping soundly for the first time in what seemed like ages.

She was feeling much better by morning and though she insisted to the Doctor that she was better, he was in full physician mode.

"Breakfast first. Then I'll examine you."

"Fine." He followed her into the kitchen and watched as she walked to the pantry and pulled out a loaf of bread.

"What are you doing?"

She gestured to the bread. "Breakfast?"

"Well, you're not just having toast --" he stopped when she reached back into the pantry. "Or beans on toast, for that matter. And I'm not going to let you cook. You'll overexert yourself. Go have a seat in the library or somewhere, I'll bring you breakfast."

"Doctor, I feel --"

He glared at her and Rose felt the heat of it from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. It was _intimate_ in a way she'd never noticed from him before. Mutely, she handed over the bread, finally realizing what he was suggesting.

"I'll be in the library," she said then managed to not run from the room screaming.

He _knew_ , the rat. Well, of course he did. He knew why she had cramped and now had decided she was too fragile to even make her own breakfast. Fine, if he wanted to go all domestic on her, she could play that game too.

She settled into a chair in the library vaguely curious what he would try to serve her for breakfast. You never could tell with him. It could be - well, she didn't know, Venusian tea or Orion pot noodle or - _anything._ Did Venusians even drink tea?

Rose looked down at herself. She'd fallen into bed without even undressing, so she was still wearing the clothes she'd had on the day before. She really was falling apart. First the cramps, now personal hygiene. Did she have enough time to shower before he finished preparing whatever it was he would expect her to eat?

She had her hand on the door handle when she heard him coming down the corridor. Yep, Orion pot noodle it would be then, there was no way he'd had enough time to do anything more. She settled back into the chair to wait.

The polite knock on the library door surprised her, but not as much as what she saw when she opened it. He was carrying a covered tray, one that looked very loaded down and smelled delicious.

"What's that?" she asked when put the tray down on a nearby table.

"It's breakfast." He lifted the lid dramatically and placed it off to the side.

"That's impossible. You weren't gone five minutes." She could pick out the individual smells now, beans, sausage, eggs, bubble and squeak. Tea. Lots of tea.

He muttered something that vaguely sounded like 'time machine'.

"Yeah, that's well and good, but we didn't go anywhere." She was relatively certain they were still in the Vortex.

"I may have cooked this a few hours ago, in anticipation of you being hungry." There was something almost shy in his eyes, but it was gone before she had a chance to analyze it. "You didn't eat anything at all yesterday."

"A few hours ago? This looks fresh." There was also toast, some bacon, tomatoes. It was a proper fry-up.

He lifted the lid again and showed it to her, once again a kid showing off a really neat toy. "Stasis box. You mean you've never wondered why the food in the pantry never goes off? Here, sit, eat." He put down the lid, pulled out a chair for her and waited.

She was touched. Really, truly touched. "Thank you."

"Oh, it was nothing --"

"Shut up. I said thank you." She placed her hand beside his on the back of the chair and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.

"Rose," he said softly, his voice oddly strained.

It wasn't until his hand covered hers that Rose realized the little peck she'd impulsively started had begun to linger. Embarrassed, she pulled away from him.

They'd kissed before, usually a quick peck on the cheek at the end of a night, a particularly rough adventure, or just to say thank you. It was rare, but it happened that their lips would meet, one night when he'd turned suddenly as she was aiming for his cheek, again several months after that at the insistence of some local dignitaries who wouldn't take no for an answer. She'd spent several days in her room after that, grateful that said dignitaries' definition of 'complete physical intimacy' had stopped at kissing.

"So, yeah, thank you."

"You're very welcome," he replied, squeezing her hand. He nodded down at the chair and she took the hint.

But she hesitated.

"What is it?" Rose wiggled her fingers and he released her hand instantly. "Sorry."

"S'okay." She sat as he pushed in the chair for her. "Looks good."

He swooped down and placed a kiss on her cheek. It was over almost before it had begun, but that didn't stop it from leaving her breathless. He almost never initiated things like that. "Enjoy," he said before turning to leave the room.

"No you don't," she called after him. "I couldn't possibly eat all of this myself."

"But --"

"You probably haven't eaten breakfast yet either. So, whatever TARDIS maintenance you're about to invent as an excuse to get out of here can wait, I'm sure. Have a seat, Doctor. I don't bite." She picked up a sausage and bit into it, not realizing until he flinched the suggestive nature of what she'd done. Yeah, something was definitely going on. He'd never reacted to innuendo before.

But he sat without further comment at the head of the table, cat-a-corner from where he'd put her.

It didn't take Rose long to realize that while he'd made enough food for three people, he had expected her to eat it by herself. There was one fork and one mug, and she somehow knew that if she let him leave to get extras he wouldn't come back. So they found themselves sharing. Which wasn't so bad. The sausage and bacon could be picked up with fingers and though he typically liked his tea much sweeter than her, he drank it the way she prepared it without complaint.

"So, no Orion pot noddle, then?" she said after several minutes of just the sounds of the fork hitting the plate.

He swallowed a bite of egg - it was his turn with the fork. "What?"

She laughed. "When you were making breakfast, I was wondering what you'd come in with." He offered her a bite of egg which she took and chewed. "You know, Venusian tea, Orion pot noodle."

"Venusians don't even drink tea. And Orion is a whole nebula, there isn't any 'Orion' planet on which to get pot noodle."

She loved the opportunity to give him the "you just dribbled on your shirt" look. "It was a joke."

"Oh," he said around a bite of beans. He looked away as she took another bite of sausage, then he picked up the mug and drank deeply. Rose watched him with interest, curious now if she could get away with teasing him deliberately, since he seemed so unusually susceptible to it. He put down the mug. "A joke. Of course. Well, that's enough for me. Come get me when you're done and we'll go down to the infirmary."

Rose watched him go and was suddenly no longer interested in breakfast either. She waited, picking at the wealth of food still on the plate, so that he wouldn't think she'd followed immediately after him. When enough time had passed, she brought the tray to the kitchen and went to her room. She would definitely feel better after a shower.

At least he would give her a clean bill of health, she thought as she lathered her hair. As odd as he was acting, he probably couldn't wait until their next adventure.

* * *

"What do you mean another day?" She was sitting on a table in the infirmary.

"I mean exactly that, Rose. You were ill, you need time to recover."

"I'm not _ill_ , I'm --" She stopped, flushed. How much did he know and how much did he _know_ about what had happened to her? And how doctor-like was the Doctor willing to act? You know, all professional and unperturbed. Besides, did she really want to have _that_ conversation with him?

Apparently he wasn't going to give her a choice. "Your cycle was disrupted. It's not terribly surprising considering we don't exactly keep to a regular schedule inside the TARDIS. There's no shame in taking a few days to relax."

"I don't need a few days to relax."

He looked down at the terminal between them. "I say you do."

"Doctor --"

"I'm afraid that's my final word on the matter. And, since I'm the only one who knows how to pilot the TARDIS you're just going to have to go along with it."

"But you don't even want to _be_ here."

"What?"

"Nothing." She jumped down from the table. "I'll just --"

He grabbed her arm. He'd come around the terminal in the space it had taken her to breathe and she'd not even seen him move. "Rose." It was not a question or the beginning of a sentence. It was a statement all by itself. "Please believe me when I say that right now the single most important thing to me in the entire universe is your health. I very much want to be here. Right here, right now, with you for as long as necessary until you are well again."

This was the absolute truth. She knew because there was a raw nakedness in his eyes she had never seen before. "Doctor," she said, suddenly scared, "am I okay? You seem - I mean, if it's just cramps --"

He blinked and his eyes returned to normal. "You're fine! What makes you think --"

"Doctor! Don't lie to me, please. I'm a big girl. Two years I've been traveling with you and this has never happened before. Now you're telling me half truths - well, that's not anything new - and making me breakfast and keeping us in the Vortex when you normally can't stand to stay still for two seconds. Honestly, you're like a kid with too much sugar most days, you can't make me believe you want to stay like this."

He pushed her hair behind her ear, then ran his fingers down along the line of her jaw. That look in his eyes was back. "I do."

True.

They were so close their bodies were almost touching. The hand he'd used to restrain her had gentled and could almost be called a caress, not to mention what he was doing with his other hand which would _definitely_ be called a caress. Oh God, he was going to - no, of course he wasn't. Rose Marion Tyler, take a deep breath, get your heart started again and, for Heaven's sake, back away before you do something stupid.

"So --" her mouth was dry. That was not a squeak. She cleared her throat and tried again. "So, one more day?"

"We'll see. I'll examine you again tomorrow."

"And then?"

"And then, if I decide you are well enough to run for your life should the need arise, we'll go somewhere."

"Okay. I guess I'll go find something to do then."

He waited until she was almost in the corridor before he spoke again. "Rose? If you want we can spend a couple of days with your mom."

"I'm bored, Doctor, not suicidal."

"You know you have full access to the library, the media room, and the swimming pool, anytime day or night."

"Yeah. 'Course." But it wasn't the same. Not that she'd rather be running for her life, obviously, but with him acting so strange, she couldn't decide if he'd accept an invitation to just hang out with her or not, even if it was just sitting together in the library while they read. One minute he seemed to want to get as far away from her as possible and the next he was invading her personal space and looking down at her as though she was the single most precious sentient being in the universe. It was confusing and a touch unnerving.

"Good. Good."

There was something else he wanted to say, she was sure of it, but as the seconds stretched into minutes she began to doubt he would. "Okay then. I'll just go --"

"Dinner's at 7:30." He blurted it all out at once and she had to pick apart the sounds in her mind to decipher what he'd said.

"Sounds good. Can I help cook?"

"No, you take it easy. I'll do it."

She wanted to growl at him. She was _not_ a porcelain doll. They'd cooked together loads of times, even occasionally when it was that time of the month and he'd never tried to stop her before.

Of course, if she growled at him he'd probably see that as another symptom and metaphorically ground them for another day. Though, it might be worth it to see his face.

With a nod she set off down the corridor. What to do with herself for the next nine hours?

 

But will I hold you again?  
Waste the hours with talking, talking  
These twisted games we're playing  
\- "The Space Between," Dave Matthews Band 


	5. Chapter 5

The Space Between  
The tears we cry  
Is the laughter that keeps us coming back for more  
\- "The Space Between," Dave Matthews Band 

At 7:29 he put the final touches on dinner. At 7:31 he started to get nervous. At 7:35 he went off in search of her and found her exiting the galley with a very confused look on her face.

"I thought you said dinner was at 7:30?"

"Yeah, sorry about that, forgot to mention, we're dining al fresco tonight." Taking her hand was automatic. So was the urge to wrap his other arm around her waist and drag her closer to him. He was falling apart.

"Al fresco? Doctor, in case you haven't noticed, we're inside the Vortex."

"Are you sure about that?" He guided her to the control room and around the console to the spot where he'd spread out their dinner.

"Reasonably sure, yeah - oh, that's lovely."

The picnic blanket was just inside the TARDIS doors. He hadn't bothered with a basket, so their plates were already laid out in a way that he hoped suggested a casual arrangement and not the precise mathematical placement he'd worked out.

The meal was the product of a few minutes good research and about half an hour of cooking: salmon poached in a very dry white wine over a bed of steamed spinach with a side of spaghetti citron. And for dessert, caramelized oranges. Lots of high iron foods with some citrus to aid in absorption. Exactly what her body needed right now.

He nudged her in the direction of the blanket. "Have a seat."

He waited for her to settle into a spot then walked past her to the doors. "And, Miss Tyler, your view." He threw open the doors and stepped aside.

Rose was standing again and at his side in a second, her body pressing against his, and this time his arm did curl around her automatically, holding her there. "It's beautiful."

The wonder in her face and voice made him want to spout poetry, probably something incredibly insipid about how the view paled in comparison to her beauty. Because, for some reason, acting like a lovesick swain would make everything all better, right? He was trying, really, truly trying to maintain the same detached distance from her as before and failing on almost every count. So here he was, offering her a romantic picnic and quietly doing everything in his power to keep them alone together.

He hadn't kissed her yet, at least, though that morning in the infirmary it had been close.

"I didn't notice us move."

"Are you suggesting I'm a bad driver, Miss Tyler?"

She giggled and stuck her tongue between her teeth as she met his gaze. "Oh, hardly." Her eyes danced with merriment. He tensed his arm, squeezing her ever so slightly, then watched as her eyes darkened and her breath caught. She recovered faster than he did. "Where are we?" she asked, turning back to the swirl of colors just outside the TARDIS doors.

"Your backyard. Well, not really - sort of."

"Doctor."

"It's the Orion Nebula."

"Orion Nebula." She turned slightly to look at the picnic blanket again. "I'm surprised we're not having pot noodle."

"Now she's disparaging my cooking. The things I do for you, nebulas and ro--" He stopped, her eyes widening at his slip; genius, him. "-- picnics." Rassilon, this was going to kill him. He nodded at the blanket, his throat tight. "Sit down; your food will get cold."

He waited for her to get settled again then sat down to her right. Mathematics were an amazing thing. The way he'd placed the plates created an intimate atmosphere without being smothering. The blanket was precisely big enough for the two of them to sit comfortably or for one to sit and the other to lounge. And because it delineated the appropriate picnic space, both of them would unconsciously respect its boundaries.

He poured them each tea and for a few minutes they ate in relative silence, talking only about the food. Eventually, she looked at him over her mug. "You're quiet."

"I've answered all of your questions."

"Yeah, that's it though, normally I can't get a word in edgewise."

He cast his eyes around the room, silently begging for a topic to jump out at him, preferably something innocuous that he could ramble on about for a few minutes to prove to her that he hadn't really been in his own little world.

Ah. He stretched out his legs and reclined back on his elbows, gesturing at the open doors. "The Orion Nebula." She always loved it when he talked science. "Officially discovered by Humans in 1610, but it's much much older than that. Four primary stars and a binary system, for a total of six stars. Two million years ago it was bigger, but stars have been running away from it for ages."

He leaned closer to her and pointed. "You see how that whole section right there is green? That's been confusing Earth scientists for centuries. They even invented a whole new element just to explain it 'nebulium.' Later they realized it was actually due to a low-probability electron transition in doubly ionized oxygen. They called it the forbidden transition, meaning that the process could not proceed by the most efficient route, but there was a small probability of it spontaneously occurring, should an atom or molecule be raised to an excited state."

His voice petered out. When had a discourse on the Orion Nebula become a metaphor for their relationship?

And why had he brought her _here_ of all places anyway? Forbidden transitions and... "The Orion Nebula is a stellar nursery. Right this second there are over 700 stars out there in various stages of formation."

There wouldn't be a child. He'd seen to that by forcing Rose's body to dissolve her waiting egg before his sperm could fertilize it, hence why her cycle had been thrown into confusion. He would never have subjected her to the consequences of his actions. An unborn, a never-was, and yet still one more soul on his conscience.

In complete violation of the unspoken rule about one of them sitting while the other lounged, Rose moved the plates off of the blanket and stretched her body out alongside his, pillowing her head on his chest. He looked down at the top of her head, the arm she'd casually thrown across his abdomen, her legs, bare beneath the shorts she wore, paralleling his own in their pinstripes.

"Rose?"

She squeezed him. "You sound so sad. You must miss them."

She thought he missed his family. In an effort to put off answering her, he maneuvered himself so that she would be more comfortable, lying flat and wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Just to have something to do with his other hand - to prevent himself from touching her any more than he already was - he fisted his hand and shoved it beneath his own head.

"That's not..." _That's not the reason this particular nebula is affecting me so much. It's you, Rose Tyler, and my regrets about the way things happened between us, for being unable to protect you from it, but most of all for the things I had to do, the decisions I had to make so that you wouldn't hate me for it._

She crooked her leg and rested it on top of his; she was now more on top of him than she was next to him. She had no way of knowing how similar this position was to the one they'd been in when he'd awoken in her bed. "It's okay, you know."

For a moment he wondered if she'd heard what he was thinking. Then he remembered that their minds had never touched, and that she certainly was not a competent enough telepath to read even his uppermost surface thoughts.

"Yeah. I do." And for a while he did.

He lost track of how long they stayed that way, both of them looking out at the nebula, their dinner unfinished and forgotten. He knew the minute she dropped off into a light sleep, though, when her breathing slowed and she burrowed deeper into his side. Still he stayed.

* * *

"Finally."

From behind the terminal the Doctor looked at her over the rims of his glasses. "Rose Tyler, one might think you don't enjoy my company."

"It's not that --" He grinned and she realized he was teasing her. Again.

She should have been suspicious of the tray in the galley that morning, but she hadn't been, nor had she been surprised when she lifted the stasis lid to find a mug of tea and a pot noodle. She had decided not to make a big deal out of it and made beans on toast for herself instead. After all, _someone_ had brought her to bed after she'd fallen asleep on the control room floor, and she was trying not to think too much about that, the falling asleep in his arms part _or_ the him tucking her into bed part.

At least if he was teasing her about her eagerness to start traveling again, then he likely wasn't teasing about the clean bill of health he'd just given her.

"So, where are we going first?"

"Oh, Miss Impatient wants to know where we're going." He came around the terminal pocketing his glasses and put away the teasing tone with them. "Rose, just because you're feeling better and the TARDIS seems to agree with you doesn't mean that I'm going to bring you into the first dangerous situation I can think of."

"Come on, Doctor. It's not just the danger, you know that. It's the adventure, it's the thrill of seeing something new for the first time."

"Good, I'm glad you feel that way, because we're going to take it easy for a few more days. I've got a couple of stops in mind, nothing too far from home to start with."

"Great. When can we leave?"

"We're already here. What do you think I was doing while you were making your own breakfast?"

_Busted_. But she wasn't going to let him have that one. "A better question would be: When did you learn to properly fly the TARDIS?"

"You, Miss Tyler, are impertinent. And you have an appointment in the wardrobe."

"Really? I get to dress up?"

He indicated a non-existent watch on his wrist. "You'd better hurry. We're going to be late."

She squealed as she jumped down from the table, hugged him impulsively and then ran to the wardrobe.

He hadn't given her a clue as to what she should wear, Rose realized when she got there. Normally he told her where they were going at least so she'd have an idea, but not this time. She looked around for a minute hoping that something would jump out at her, then she rounded a corner and stopped. The dress was hanging apart from everything else, so she knew that it had to be the one. The bodice was deep red - she touched it experimentally - velvet bordered by fine lace, with a square neckline and short puffy sleeves. Nestled below the bodice was a pale pink ribbon tied in a bow. The skirt was double layered, the bottom a thin cotton, the top white satin.

On a small table beside the dress were gloves, shoes, a hat and -- "You've got to be kidding me," she said to the room at large. "I'm not wearing that thing." A corset. "I'd never get into it by myself anyway and I am _not_ asking him to help me."

She dressed as quickly as she could, and was rolling one of the long gloves up her arm when she walked back into the control room.

"You look beautiful!"

She'd heard those words before, in exactly that same surprise-tinged-with-awe tone, too. This time she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Rose ignored him as she slipped on the second glove.

"Here, let me help you."

He tucked his walking stick under his arm as he took her hand in his and rolled the glove up her arm.

Wait - walking stick? Rose looked at him for the first time. "You dressed up! You never dress up."

The first thing she noticed was the cravat, intricately knotted and piled high beneath his chin, with their height difference it was staring her right in the face. Rose had to stifle the urge to giggle; it looked like he would hardly be able to move his head. Then came the coat, deep blue and a stark contrast to his usual brown pinstripes, it was square-cut high on the waist and tailed in the back. He'd buttoned the bottom two buttons and between the crisp white of the cravat and where the coat was closed, she could see a beautifully brocaded off-white waistcoat. The pants were also white and stopped just below the knee and he wore socks — stockings? — that covered his surprisingly nice calves. He had even abandoned the trainers in favor of a pair of black shoes with golden buckles. His hair was it's typical mess though it looked like he'd put some effort into arranging it at least.

He took the walking stick out from under his arm and placed the end properly on the floor. "Do you like it?"

Rose put her hands on his sides, forcing him to turn left and then right as she looked at the detail of his costume.

"Yeah, I do. You look good, foxy even."

"I meant it," he said as her hands fell away from him. "You look beautiful."

Why had he suddenly developed this disarming ability to tell the truth?

"For a Human?" she asked teasingly, trying to defuse an unwelcome blush that was threatening to rise.

"For any sentient bi-pedal species. I meant it then, too - in Cardiff - I was just too much of a coward to let you know that I thought so."

True. Again.

The blush quickly spread up to her neck and face. And they were standing so close that her skirts brushed against his breeches. She was sure he could see that the blush had started at the neckline of her dress. Which meant that he could probably also tell that she'd not bothered with the corset. Suddenly she felt very exposed.

"Jewelry! I'm not wearing any jewelry. There wasn't any in the wardrobe."

Seemingly oblivious to the real cause of her distress, the Doctor tucked the walking stick back under his arm and produced a pair of gloves from his coat pocket. "Where we're going it's actually the height of poor taste for a woman to wear a lot of jewelry," he said as he tugged on the gloves. "Natural beauty is preferred."

He offered her his arm and she took it, allowing him to lead her from the TARDIS. As they stepped outside Rose experienced what she could only define as time traveler jet lag. It had been early morning for them inside of the TARDIS, but it was already dark outside, early or perhaps mid-evening.

"Hold on," she said as they walked down a familiar street. "We're in London. I thought you were taking me to a theme planet or something."

He looked genuinely confused. "Why would I do that? London, 1812. May 7th, to be precise, the height of the Season."

"Okay. But London?"

"Why not London? How much do you know about your own city's history, Rose? In 1812, the Prince of Wales was Regent, the haute ton were spending their evenings attending glittering balls and parties. By now the tide of the Peninsular War has turned, marking the beginning of the end for Napoleon. People are celebrating by living life to the fullest."

Their progress had slowed to a crawl as gradually the sidewalk they were on filled with people either walking up like they had or disembarking from carriages. "All right. So, we're in London, where are we going?"

He didn't answer her right away and she noticed that most of the people around them were going into a vaguely familiar large building. "Is that the opera? We're going to the opera?"

"Theatre, actually. Covent Garden and Drury Lane hold the monopoly on spoken drama until the Theatres Act of 1843."

Despite the press of people around them, it was very polite with no one jostling them for space. "So what are we going to see?"

"We are going to see the renowned Sarah Siddons in her most famous and final role, Lady Macbeth."

"Ooh, the Scottish play."

"Indeed." He tensed the muscles of his arm beneath her hand and allowed the crowd to lead them up the stairs. Now that they were moving again, Rose looked around at what the other women wore. The colors and fabrics varied from woman to woman and from young to old but aside from a different color here or there, the men were all dressed very similarly to the Doctor. He had been right about jewelry being mostly understated. There were some crosses on chains and pearl necklaces with earrings, but mostly the women went without.

They were attracting some attention, she noticed, but the Doctor didn't seem to mind. It wasn't until he flashed his psychic paper at a footman inside that the whispering began. "Right this way, Lord Smith, my lady."

The footman led them up two flights of stairs and around a bit, finally opening a door and gesturing them inside. "Would you care for some refreshments, my lord?"

The Doctor indicated that Rose should precede him into the room. "Not now, George. Thank you."

He nodded. "Enjoy the play, Lord Smith, Lady Smith."

They were in the back of an oblong room and were shrouded in darkness when George closed the door behind the Doctor. "The play's about to start, let's get to our seats," he said taking her arm again.

"Doctor," Rose said moving along with him as he guided her to the front of the box, "if you're Lord Smith and I'm Lady Smith, that would make me your..."

He pushed aside a curtain which separated the back of the room from the part that was facing the stage. The light that illuminated his face was dim, but it was enough for her to see that the question had made him uncomfortable.

Rose had been about to pass him on her way to the chairs she could see just on the other side of the curtain, but stopped underneath his extended arm. "I mean, it doesn't mean anything, obviously, it's like we're putting on a play of our own --"

"My wife." True, with a touch of something more that sent a shiver up her spine. "It would make you my - Lady Smith, that is, would be Lord Smith's wife. I had to rent a private box so that we could talk freely and the natives would be scandalized by us sitting alone together if we weren't married."

That was not true. Rather, it was true, but not the complete truth. Rose was beginning to wonder what was more unnerving, that he'd started telling her the truth or that she was getting so used to it that she could now distinguish between truths and half-truths.

As she and the Doctor stood there staring at each other the play opened amid thunder and lightning and the cackling of witches. Rose could count on one hand the number of times they'd had to pretend to be more than 'just friends'. Each and every example had been in a life or death situation. However, she could not come up with one single instance beyond that of him caring about the locals' sensibilities regarding their marital status.

On stage the three witches were discussing their next meeting, but Rose was still rooted to the spot.

His expression softened and she got that feeling again, the one that she was pretty sure meant he was calculating the exact amount of pressure he would need to apply to her lips for her to not complain about him kissing her. She licked her lips unconsciously, a heartbeat away from vaulting to her toes and dragging his mouth down to hers.

_"There to meet with Macbeth."_

"Have a seat, Rose," he said softly, "you're missing it."

Lady Macbeth wouldn't make her entrance until scene five. They had time and Rose was relatively certain she'd brushed by a couch when she'd walked into the box. In fact, hang the play entirely. If they left now they might make it back to the TARDIS before she found out if he was wearing pants underneath those breeches.

_"What bloody man is that? He can report, as seemeth by his plight, of the revolt the newest state."_

"Rose? The play." And just like that, the tension between them dissolved leaving Rose to wonder if she'd imagined the whole thing.

Except, her knees were weak and there was a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach that she just knew had only one cure. But his gaze was clear and he was looking at her with nothing more than a faint curiosity. Superior git. She had _not_ imagined it even though it seemed he would rather her believe she had. "Right. The play."

She moved past him and went to sit in the first chair she came to, but he stopped her and gestured to the chair that was closer to the stage. He waited until she was seated before taking for himself the chair she'd wanted. Somehow he managed to make sitting down look like the single sexiest thing Rose had ever witnessed.

She'd seen Macbeth before, or parts of it at least, once in a school play and again a few years later when there'd been nothing better on the telly. It was all dark and broody and a little dull until people started dying. It wasn't long before her attention started to wander.

Rose looked around the theatre at the rest of the audience. Apparently there was some rule about the women having better seats, because in every other box she could see the men were farther away from the stage, in some cases even standing behind the women if there were enough of the fairer sex to fill the first row of the box.

She was surprised to see that quite a few of said women appeared to be looking in her direction as well. She leaned over to the Doctor. "I think they're staring at us."

He looked out at the boxes and nodded to her, his superior sight confirming her suspicions. "We're a novelty is all. A rich, titled couple never before seen in London society. They'll all be thumbing through their copies of Debrett's Peerage tomorrow."

Actually, Rose was pretty sure it was because she'd nearly shagged him rotten in clear view of everyone, but that was a subject she didn't want to spend time discussing. Well, she did, but preferably with tongues and gasps and hands sliding over -- "There isn't really a Lord Smith, is there?"

He looked scandalized. "I should hope not."

His eyes slipped past her to the stage at the same time the audience seemed to inhale as one. Ah, scene five. Rose turned back to the stage to watch the entrance of Sarah Siddons.

"She'll give her final performance next month," he confided, leaning forward so that his breath tickled Rose's ear, meaning he only had to whisper to be heard. "The audience is so moved that they don't even let the play finish. She comes back on stage and gives a farewell speech that lasts eight minutes."

What his breath had done to her body lasted far longer than eight minutes. It was well into act two before Rose could think clearly again. By then she was somewhat grateful for the fact that the Doctor was sitting slightly behind her, so she wouldn't be tempted to stare at him for the next hour or more until the play finished.

With act four came a bit of a surprise. Sometime around "Double, double, toil and trouble" Rose was pretty certain the Doctor had shifted his attention to _her_. It was little things at first, the sound of his breath catching as she uncrossed and recrossed her legs, his hand lingering on hers as he handed her a wine glass he'd sent the footman to fetch. Then it was him shifting in his chair as she played with the top of her glove which insisted on falling loose just above her elbow, and a tiny whimper, easily dismissed as imagined, as she curled a lock of hair over and over around her finger.

As act four turned into act five, she wanted so desperately to turn to him and remind him about the couch just on the other side of the curtain or the TARDIS only a few blocks away. However, there was still a part of her that did believe she had imagined it, the whole thing starting from him making her breakfast and ending with that whimper.

He prohibited himself from becoming intimate with his companions, that was a fact. Maybe it had started as a rule the other Time Lords had enforced, but he was the last now, the only one left to hold himself accountable. Maybe it was more than that, maybe it really was just his cowardly streak trying to protect his hearts from breaking. He had all but admitted to her that he'd loved some of the people who had traveled with him and yet he had left them all behind eventually. How much more difficult would it be to leave behind a lover instead of a friend? Or, worse, to keep them with him as they aged, grew old, and died, while he stayed youthful?

She was 21, would probably live to be at least 80 or 90, baring illness or injury - always a possibility when traveling with the Doctor. But Rose couldn't imagine herself running from the Slitheen or self-proclaimed devils at 50 or 60. Her time with him was so limited, and he would have to go on without her afterwards for hundreds of years longer. Was she being selfish wanting more from him during their brief time, pushing him towards her goals, her needs?

By the time Lady Macbeth was sleepwalking across the stage, Rose Tyler had begun to cry. Without looking at him, she accepted a handkerchief when he pressed it into her hand, certain if she met his eyes that he would be able to see she had long ago stopped paying attention to the play.

The remainder of the play passed in a blur and when his hand cupped her elbow as applause erupted around them, Rose was suddenly desperate for fresh air. She had ignored him throughout the entire final act and when she finally looked up at his face she saw the effect her tears had had on him. If he had been Human, she would have said he'd aged ten years, his face drawn and serious, his eyes wounded.

"Rose?"

She cupped his cheek, at once both grateful for and hating the glove that prevented her hand from touching his skin. "Take me home, Doctor."

They left Covent Garden in silence, ahead of the worst of the crowd since many had stayed behind to offer congratulations to Sarah Siddons and the rest of the company.

He seemed to release a breath he'd been holding for a while when the TARDIS doors closed behind them. "Are you okay?"

She sniffled and dabbed at her eyes one last time with the handkerchief before handing it back to him. "It's a tragedy, Doctor. Sometimes the only thing you can do after the crying is learn from it." She stepped closer to him and stretched, placing a kiss on his cheek, and then pulling away, ignoring how her mind insisted he'd tried to wrap his whole presence around her to keep her close. "Thank you, the theatre was lovely. But I think I need to go lie down."

As she walked away from him, Rose began to wonder when a tragic play had become a metaphor for their relationship.

 

The rain that falls  
Splash in your heart  
Ran like sadness down the window into...  
\- "The Space Between," Dave Matthews Band 


	6. Chapter 6

  
The Space Between  
Where you're smiling high  
Is where you'll find me if I get to go  
\- "The Space Between," Dave Matthews Band 

It had been two weeks since she'd gotten ill and though they were traveling again, he was still treating her like a porcelain doll. They had picnicked again, this time beneath the path of a comet on a planet he'd laughingly called Kazi; they had witnessed the hatching of a clutch of tiny dragons - from a safe distance, naturally - on a planet that didn't even have a name; the Octanis Ballet had been in town - on Xyri Prime, in the 33rd century - and he'd taken her to that as well.

All beautiful, wonderful things, but nothing she would consider _interesting_.

They'd grown apart a bit, too. Since that night at Covent Garden Rose had discovered new strength to resist her physical urges. There was still some hand-holding and the occasional good night kiss, but she'd definitely put a stop to her mind trying to make more out of it than what it was.

Therefore, this wasn't a date. It was just mates, best mates even, going on an outing. She had been over this in her mind often enough since he'd suggested it. But, it looked like a date. And not in the "Let's go see Ian Dury and the Blockheads, end up saving the world from a werewolf" sort of way either.

The Doctor was wearing his pinstriped armor with a pair of new trainers but he'd insisted she dress the part. The outfit the TARDIS had picked for her screamed _date_. Because, come on, a little black dress was not exactly casual wear. But this one had a plunging v-neck and a large cutout between her shoulder blades. The skirt was short, too, not as short as the jumper she'd worn when she thought she was going to get to see Ian Dury, but short. And though it appeared to be pencil-thin, it wasn't tight, and an experimental twirl in the wardrobe had revealed its devastating secret. The skirt flared out, giving her plenty of room to move. This LBD was designed for _dancing._ The shoes were open-toed four-inch heels, and were inhumanly comfortable. Like I-wonder-if-Time-Lords-dabbled-in-bigger-on-the-inside-footwear comfortable.

It was evening again when they stepped out of the TARDIS, the sky just starting to darken as the sun dipped lower and lower on the horizon. He took her hand in his and led them down the small hill just outside of town where he'd parked.

"For seven days every denizen of the planet switches their sleep cycle in a huge celebration of the moon and the stars," he explained. "Festivities begin when the sun goes down on day one - today. Traditionally, the first meal consists of hundreds of courses, each one honoring a major star in the Emin sky."

Rose admired the decorations as they walked through the town, hanging lanterns in the shape of the Emin moon and strings of lights like she would expect to see at Christmas back home to represent the stars.

"And you," he showed her the psychic paper, "have an invitation to join Premier Klarin Blade's personal celebration."

"Dinner, again?" Then something else he'd said finally registered. "Hundreds of courses?"

They approached a very large and official-looking building. "Very very small portions, Rose. It's kind of like tapas, really. One little dakafas, two tafaa, two ebades. You know, appetizers." He flashed the psychic paper at the guard standing next to the door who jumped to open it.

"You're the last to arrive, Dame Rose. Please enjoy your meal. And may the stardust fall upon you."

"It's more than just the food, Rose, it's a gala, a fete, a jubilee to the stars and everything they stand for, the energy, the potential, the --"

He stopped because they had entered the main room.

"A gala," Rose said incredulously as she looked around. "A fete, you said. A jubilee."

"Well-l-l," he replied, taking in the disinterested faces of the people at the tables. "There's supposed to be music and dancing and skits and --" he looked up at the ceiling, the perfectly ordinary-looking ceiling, "-- and the most amazing view of the stars anywhere on planet."

Rose looked up. "I think that's some other place."

His eyes darted around again and she could see his wheels turning. "You stay here. I'll be right back," he said then rushed off down a side corridor.

Sensing fresh prey, a group of bored servers descended upon her and Rose was offered viewing glasses, drinks and several different kinds of food so quickly she could hardly tell where one silver tray ended and the next began.

The Doctor's first rule was 'don't run off'. It was an easy rule to ignore once you got in the heat of the moment and saw something that required investigation. He didn't have a rule for food and drink, but Rose did. She couldn't remember how many times he'd said something was okay for her to eat only to forget that Humans couldn't digest it or that one minor ingredient in it would make her sick. It was risky enough with him around, so tasting things without his supervision was completely out of the question.

She waved all of them away, ignoring their dejected expressions. Her patience with 'don't run off' had already started to wane and she began to make a slow circuit of the room. The tables were mostly populated with humanoids. It was another difference she'd noticed after her recovery, they spent a lot less time in the company of overtly alien aliens.

A very polite cough behind her grabbed her attention just as the sound of machinery overhead caused a huge eruption of applause. The ceiling was splitting in two and separating, opening the entire room to the night and the stars that were just beginning to light the sky. Well, now she knew where the Doctor had most likely gone at least, and that he would probably be back soon.

The owner of the polite cough was a tall, well-dressed man who bowed when she turned to him. "Ah. I do not believe we've been introduced, Dame Rose. My name is Klarin Blade, welcome to my table."

"Premier Blade, it is an honor."

He stretched his open hands out before him and Rose automatically put her hands in his. He nearly had them to his lips when a brown pin-striped blur flew past her, and the next thing she knew, Klarin Blade was lying on the floor clutching at his face as pale purple blood gushed from what passed for his nose.

Rose was in shock, her eyes riveted on the Doctor and the look of pure intense hatred she saw on his face. "Doctor! What the hell!"

Someone had apparently screamed - in hindsight, Rose wondered if it might have been her - and the Premier's guards had run up, quickly assessing the situation. Well, this was a first, she thought as they dragged the Doctor away. She was usually arrested along with him.

She stayed long enough to make sure that the Premier was getting proper medical attention before storming off to find the city's jail. By the time she arrived, the guards had returned to their leader's side and the one poor deputy who was stuck with the Doctor did not look pleased about his lot.

"Can I see him?"

"I'm sorry, miss, visiting hours are from Prime until Post." It sounded like the kind of rote thing a desk clerk had to say a million times a day.

"I know --" She hadn't known, but it was irrelevant -- "But, you see, he's my companion - or I'm his, I suppose."

He barely blinked. "Oh. Right this way, miss." He took a keyring from his pocket and opened a heavy door. Rose was so surprised at how easy that had been that it took her a second to follow after him.

The Doctor was in a large cell, the kind you would expect to find several rowdy drunks in, but tonight he was the only occupant. It was a nice cell, she thought with a touch of irony, far nicer than any of the ones she'd shared with him. He watched her as she walked into the room, his body tense but his expression unreadable.

The guard, confident that he had done his duty, walked back into the lobby.

Rose waited for him to go. "Doctor, what the hell just happened? You've just assaulted --"

"They didn't take my sonic," he whispered, slipping the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket. "It's just the one guard --"

"No."

"-- we can --" his brow furrowed. "What did you say?"

"I said no. If it was us against them I'd be right there with you. But, frankly, I'm on their side this time." He grumbled at her, but pocketed the sonic again. "What do you expect? You punched the Premier. In the _face_ , Doctor. He was just being polite."

"He was going to kiss you, Rose."

"Yeah, on the _hand_. It know it's a little old-fashioned where I come from, but it's not worth knocking his lights out over."

"He had no right."

"You may have broken his... nose. Don't you think that's a little extreme?"

He paced once up and down the cell before answering her. The pacing, more than anything else, spoke eloquently of his state of mind. "No. No, I don't."

"What's wrong with you? Things have been different ever since I got sick."

He stopped pacing and whirled to face her. "I'm just trying to protect you."

Half-truth. Rose opened her mouth to reply, but the sound of voices in the lobby stopped her. "Don't think we're done with this conversation."

Klarin Blade entered the room, waving the guard back with one hand. "Tch. He's safely locked away in a cell, I don't think he's going to cause problems." The guard grumbled, but agreed on the condition that the door to the lobby stayed open.

"Premier Blade," Rose said as she greeted him with arms outstretched, "I am so glad to see you up and about." The area around his nose was purpled and he'd had to change his clothes because of the blood, but otherwise he looked quite well.

"Mm. Dame Rose." He took her hands in his and was moving to kiss them when a menacing growl erupted from the Time Lord in the holding cell. He stopped, squeezed Rose's hands and then dropped them. "Ah. On second thought, I'd better not. Your Companion is a mite possessive, yes?"

Rose glared daggers at the Doctor, but forced a smile for the Premier's benefit. "Yes, he is."

"Hm. I had feared that was the way of things." He turned to the Doctor, taking care, Rose noted, to stay out of the Time Lord's reach. "Ah. You introduced yourself as her escort, Sir Doctor. Nothing more. If you are her Companion, why did you not say so?"

His lack of a quick glib response surprised her. Then Rose's mouth went dry when the silence stretched out and she began to realize the implications it represented.

Sure, they had been doing less deposing evil overlords, saving the world, and running lately. She had been sick, he was just trying to ease her back into their normal routine. She'd put aside any thought of his having a romantic interest in her as her own desires clouding her judgment, denied the idea that the quiet dinners, plays, and concerts were dates. After all, they'd met Charles Dickens and the Gelth on what had started out very much like some of their more recent encounters. Was it so difficult to believe that they could possibly be out together, having a perfectly nice time where nothing went wrong and it not be a date?

The Doctor still had not answered Blade. "Tch. I asked you a question, Sir Doctor, I expect an answer. Might I remind you that I am being very generous considering you are standing in my jail accused of assaulting me."

Rose placed a hand on his arm. "Premier Blade, if I might have a moment alone with my... companion?"

"Ah. Of course, Dame Rose."

She watched him go before turning back to the Doctor, mindful that the door to the other room remained open. "I don't know what game you're playing --"

"I'm not playing any game," he hissed back at her.

"Maybe not, but there's something you're not telling me. I don't know what it is, but I think it's past time that I find out. You've been acting strange for weeks --"

He was getting upset; she was pushing him and she knew it. "I have not."

"How many dates have we been on, Doctor?" she shot back.

His mouth opened automatically before, Rose was sure, he'd even consciously taken notice of what she'd said. He looked at her sheepishly and she knew he'd been about to give her an actual answer, not deflect her away from the question.

Bullseye.

And then the penny dropped. Oh God. All of her denials, her justifications, _the holding back_. Weeks of getting dressed up and holding hands as they walked - not ran - together. Laughter and smiles and - well, she thought wryly, the flowers he'd given her that one time should have been a dead giveaway.

She took a step closer to him and cupped his face through the bars. Rose had to catch her breath when his eyes closed as he pushed back against her gently. "I'm going to call the Premier back in here and you're going to tell him everything you didn't just say to me. Then you're going to apologize and we're both going to hope that's enough for him to let you go." She waited for him to acknowledge her then continued, tenderly, "Do you want me to leave so you can talk to him?"

His eyes opened and she saw the naked emotion that usually accompanied three very special words.

True, and he hadn't even spoken a word.

He covered her hand with his own and dragged it - reluctantly? - from his face. "Please."

It took a moment for her mind to overcome the sudden rush of butterflies in her stomach enough to hear his answer for what it was. Rose withdrew her arm through the bars. "Okay. But I promise you right here and now, if you come sprinting out of this cell, I'll never forgive you."

He chuckled, low and intimately. "No, not this time."

Rose nodded then left the holding area on knees that were much too weak. "Premier Blade, my companion wishes to have a word with you."

"Mm." He passed her with a tiny bow.

Her curiosity was eating her up inside. It would be pitifully easy to casually stand close enough to the door so that she could overhear everything they were saying. So Rose made a conscious decision to move to the other side of the room instead. Nothing with him had ever been easy, but that didn't mean she was going to start cheating now. A few minutes passed without a distinguishable sound then, just as her curiosity was about to get the better of her, she heard Blade calmly call for the guard.

She walked back to the door then, just in time to hear the Doctor thank the Premier.

"Hm. Choose the words you use with her carefully, Sir Doctor," Blade replied. "Do not give needless weight to that which will in time prove insignificant."

"Premier Blade, if there is one thing I'm good at, it's --" he faltered when he stepped out of the holding area and saw Rose waiting for him, "-- words."

The Premier laughed and clapped the Doctor on the back. "Ha. I'm sure you are, Sir Doctor. I'm sure you are." He moved past the Doctor and took Rose's hands in his own. "Ah. Dame Rose, I regret that we met under these circumstances --"

"I could never regret meeting you, Premier Blade, though I am sure it is we who owe you an apology and not the other way around."

"Mm. Perhaps." He lowered his voice conspiratorially, "Be patient with him, Dame Rose. Your Companion still has a lot to learn."

The Doctor came up and put his arm around Rose's shoulders. Though he stopped short of scowling at the other man, Rose was able to see his possessiveness for what it was. She looked up at him and he offered her an embarrassed smile.

"I think it's time we leave, Premier Blade. Thank you for your hospitality and for your kindness."

"Mm. Thank you, Dame Rose and Sir Doctor for joining us during this blessed time. Good luck in your travels and may the stardust fall upon you."

They left that way, the Doctor's arm draped over her shoulders. He moderated the length of his stride so that she could keep up with him easily. Now that she thought about it, he had been doing that for a while.

When they were within sight of the TARDIS, his arm slipped down and he laced his fingers with hers. Then when they were standing at the door he let go of her entirely, only to unlock the door, she told herself, though something about the way he was holding himself made her question that assertion.

She had not imagined his response to her this time, and there was nothing he could say to convince her otherwise.

As he walked past her to the console, Rose realized that there was nothing he was going to say at all. He was going to try to pretend the last hour had never happened. Well, she wasn't going to let him. "I think we should talk about this."

"Rose --"

"No, I mean it. Doctor, you have never... What you said in that cell - or didn't say, I suppose... And then there's the dinners and the... " Rose growled in frustration. "Take pity on me, Doctor, please. I'm just a stupid ape, after all," she said with a sardonic twist to her lips.

"You are not stupid," he said, suddenly beside her, his arms already closing around her. "Or an ape."

A sob caught in her throat, choked by a touch of fright at his sudden nearness. She buried her face in his chest to catch her breath. "Is that a Time Lord thing? When you move fast like that?"

He drew her even tighter to him. "Yes, it's a Time Lord thing. I'm moving at normal speed, but slowing the time around me. Allows me to get somewhere quickly."

"Why don't you ever do it when we're running away?"

He barked a laugh and placed a kiss in her hair. "That's my Rose."

"But I'm not, am I?" She sniffled, raising her head to look at him. "Your Rose, I mean."

"You are ever my Rose."

True, with that touch of something more she hadn't heard since that evening at Covent Garden.

"Then tell me what happened. Why you flipped out tonight. Why things have been different since I got sick." _Why you looked at me with your hearts in your eyes in that cell._

His eyes shuttered for just a moment. "It's my fault you got sick."

"What do you mean, it's your fault? Doctor, the last time I checked dysmenorrhea is kind of a woman thing. How could you have possibly caused it?"

"Let's not start there. We can talk about that part later." He took a deep breath. "I didn't want Blade to kiss you because I was afraid he'd make you sick. Some species can do that."

"Really, Doctor? That's your answer? It's a little far-fetched, don't you think?"

"It happened once before, a tiny little kiss, probably on your hand." He held her hands up to inspect them. "You got sick, Rose. Really sick. Dying sick."

"I don't remember that, and I think that's something I would remember."

"Not this time. I - I took it from you."

"What do you mean you 'took it from me'? You erased a memory?" Unconsciously she took several steps away from him until he was forced to release her hands.

"You were dying, Rose. The cure was... unconventional by Human standards. I thought --"

" _You_ thought? You didn't even ask if I might want to remember?"

"It was more complicated than that. You were ill for 18 hours --"

"Eighteen hours? That's it? I had the flu once for eight days and I remember every minute of that nightmare. What was so special about this one illness that you had to erase the memory?"

"Rose, can you please just trust me about this?"

"No, I don't think so. Not unless you can tell me something more, give me a good reason why I should trust you."

That stung him, she could tell the minute the words left her lips. She had always trusted him implicitly, but the idea that he would mess with her mind without her permission terrified her. What else had he erased?

When he finally replied, his voice was soft, defeated. "I don't think you're going to like me very much if I unblock the memory. I'm afraid you'll pack your things and leave, and I'll never see you again."

True.

Rose took a deep breath while she filed away the raw emotion she'd heard in his voice, part of her anger evaporating. "So you didn't erase the memory, you just blocked it?"

He nodded.

"I think it should be my decision. I mean, if you did something horrible to me, but it was to save my life, I think I can forgive you, but I need to know. I have a right to know."

He came forward, his hand already outstretched to touch her temple. Rose hated herself for jerking away from him, hated the flash of pain across his handsome features when he realized she was afraid of him. "You're just going to put the memory back," she confirmed.

"You have my word."

She hesitated, still wary to give him permission, and he sighed. His eyes slowly closed, his hand hovering only centimetres from her face. By degrees, he lowered his hand, his eyes fluttering open again, and when he spoke, his voice cracked, "I give you -- I give you the word of a man who loves you."

Rose gasped as the memory of those 18 hours flooded back without him touching her. She remembered it all now, the hours of blind need which had culminated in the Doctor finally giving in to the one thing that -she now knew - would save her life. She remembered the look of sadness on his face at the beginning and compared it to the man who had returned her words of love at the end.

"How?" she asked, gesturing vaguely to the fact that he had removed the block without touching her.

"I knew that if I ever told you how I felt but not about that day, if you later found out about it you'd never forgive me. So, I tied the two together, a trigger, if you will. Rose, I --"

"Did you mean it? Then or now?"

His answer, when it came, was so strong that she nearly felt the force of it. The truth of it easily banished any doubt from her mind. "Forever."

* * *

"I don't understand, then, why you couldn't let me keep the memory."

That was the rub, wasn't it?

"And for the rest of your life have you believe that I took advantage of you? No. I knew you were insensible and that there were other options, loads of options, but I chose the one that benefitted me. That's what loving you did to me. I isolated you, took away your freedom to choose, and then felt relieved — _relieved_ — when you agreed to have me. And, Rassilon, I wanted you so badly by that time that it went far beyond the clinical application of a cure. I didn't have to finish. You needed the touch of a partner, the release that only comes with a partner, but I didn't. I should have held back, I should have stopped before —-"

He bit off the words then began to move around the console, pushing buttons, moving levers, and turning handles, each motion methodical and calculated.

"What are you doing?"

"Setting a course for Earth, early twenty-first century."

Rose closed the distance between them and covered his hand with her own, stopping him mid-motion. Her skin was hot, warmer than usual, but he didn't need that sign to tell him that she was upset. "Don't push me out, not now. You know me better than to believe I'd lie to you, right?"

She waited until he nodded.

"I don't understand it, maybe it affected me differently because I'm Human, but I was there, with you, from the beginning."

"You couldn't possibly --" He stopped at the feeling of her finger on his lips.

"I was there and I wanted it to be you. Don't you think if I'd wanted you to stop I'd have said something?"

"It would have killed you," he said around her finger, but she pressed it back gently against him and he quieted again.

"I didn't know that." She glared at him pointedly, silently chastising him for not sharing such an important fact with her.

Her finger fell away from his lips, tacit permission for him to speak freely again. "I was afraid I would lose you no matter what happened, but I wanted... Rose, I'm a Time Lord. I'm supposed to be above all of this. I'm not supposed to have feelings for _anyone_ , especially not love, desire. It gets in the way, it makes us selfish. Every day I have to make decisions for the good of the universe. But if I could choose so selfishly here in the privacy of the TARDIS, how long do you think it will take my enemies to figure out what you mean to me? To use you against me? Rassilon, Rose, a Dalek knew how I felt and that was long before any of this."

"We're just going to have to figure it out if it becomes necessary. I'd never ask you to sacrifice anything or anyone for me. And I would hope you'd be strong enough to know that and do the right thing."

No, he was not going to let the determination in her voice give him hope. Because there was more, there was always more.

"There would have been a child," he blurted, then continued over her pained gasp. "That's why you had the dysmenorrhea. I had to force your body to reject your own egg so that it couldn't be fertilized."

"Doctor -—"

"I could see it, the timeline beginning to emerge. Even before I... stopped holding back I knew what would happen. And I squashed it, Rose, an entire timeline — our child."

He couldn't have said who moved first, but in the blink of an eye he was in her arms, her hand firmly pushing his head down to rest on her shoulder. "I love you," she said, her voice soft and even in his ear. "I love you not despite the choices you have to make, but because of them. Because I've seen you weigh the consequences to decide which is the best path and then throw out that answer to do what feels right. But also because there are other times you have to make the hard choice, the unpopular choice, and I know what that does to you. I won't say I'm not disappointed or upset, because I am. We're both going to have to grow and learn from this, Doctor, and I won't pretend that it will be easy. But it starts with this: for once in your life, ask me what I want."

He straightened, ached at the loss as her arms fell away from him. Her eyes bored into him and it felt like she was physically dragging the question from him, but with each word his voice moved closer to normal, "What do you want, Rose Tyler?"

Rose's eyes danced with something that his fledgling hope grasped on to. "You. It's always been you, you alien git. That hasn't changed."

Then she was kissing him. Had she spontaneously developed the ability to slow time, too? Because he hadn't seen this coming.

He'd expected the anger, the disappointment, but he hadn't dared to hope that she might... Then he realized _Rose was kissing him._ And he promptly shut out everything else in his overactive mind.

Her lips were soft and pliant and hesitant, as though she expected him to pull away from her. He supposed he'd given her plenty of cause to believe he would. But oh, he'd missed this - well, not this exactly because the kisses they'd shared before had been hot and needy, and _Rassilon_ he was going to have her right here on the console if she didn't stop.

When he was dangling over the precipice of his self-control, she pulled her lips away from his, drawing out the contact until the last possible nanosecond. He clamped one arm around her waist, holding her so that she couldn't step any further away from him.

She made a quiet noise in the back of her throat that could have been amusement. "Doctor, do you love me?"

It took him a second to clear his mind. "You know I do."

"Do. You. Love. Me."

Oh. "Yes, Rose Tyler," he said very deliberately. "I love you. The prohibition against falling in love with a member of a lesser species was just about the only rule of my people I hadn't broken, so I guess I was due."

Her eyes narrowed and he wondered what she could possibly... _oh_.

"Sorry. See? This is exactly what I meant. Time Lords, we - I don't know how to do this, how to be in a relationship with you. I've just messed up twice in 30 seconds. I'm going to be rubbish at this."

"You're smart, you'll get the hang of it." She kissed him again, sweetly, teasingly, drawing him in with her tongue and the sinuous gliding of her body against his. Absently, he calculated that his control was slipping faster this time as he took a step forward to press her back against the console. Rose groaned into his mouth at the new, fuller contact his body offered her, then once again pulled her mouth away from his.

He gasped as air rushed back into his lungs. He and his respiratory bypass were going to have a conversation later about its sudden dereliction of duty. "Rose, I am sorry. For all of it."

"Don't be sorry, not for all of it. I'm not. I mean, I didn't want it to happen like that, but it did and we can't change it - well, I suppose theoretically we could, but you know."

He chuckled at the way her words ran together in a pretty fair imitation of him when his gob was running full tilt and got away from him.

Then she rested her head on his chest, right between his hearts, and his fledgling hope soared.

* * *

"I told you, Rose, it's a surprise." His hands were covering her eyes as they exited the TARDIS.

"Doctor, you know how I feel about surprises," she whined.

"Yeah," he said, releasing her. "You love them."

He watched her with baited breath as she took a second to look around. It had been a year since the last time they had visited this planet, when they had missed all of the festivities because of him. They could have come back at any time, but waiting the full year felt like a promise kept.

The TARDIS was once again parked on a hill just outside of town. Below them, the city twinkled with lights representing the night sky.

"Is this Emin?"

He couldn't stop some of his emotion from showing in his voice. "It is."

Rose smiled as she laced her fingers with his. "And you once thought you'd be rubbish at this."

They walked together down the hill to the Premier's official residence, joining a short queue at the door. They could hear the music from outside, a sharp contrast to what they'd walked into last time.

The guard's eyes widened when he read the names on the psychic paper. "If you'll follow me," he said then took off down the short hallway.

The guard was already leaning over Klarin Blade's shoulder when the Doctor and Rose entered the main room. The Premier's face lit up when he saw them and he immediately got up from the table and walked over.

Blade extended his hands to Rose as he approached and she placed her hands in his. "Ah. Dame Rose and Sir Doctor, I had hoped you would come." He squeezed Rose's hands briefly then released them. Almost immediately the Doctor felt Rose's hand in his again, and Blade's eyes followed the motion. "I notice you were announced properly this time. Things are good between you?"

"Things are better," Rose confirmed. "Much better."

"Mm. Good. I am very glad to hear that."

A woman walked up and linked her arm with Blade's. "Klarin?"

"Ah. My dear, I would like you to meet Dame Rose and her Companion Sir Doctor. This is my Companion Niserie."

"It is very nice to finally meet you," she said, shaking Rose's hand.

"Hm. Were it not for you, Sir Doctor, Niserie and I might never have discovered each other. She nursed me back to health after last year's Stardust Festival."

"Did she?" he asked as he shook the woman's hand. "Very good for you."

But Niserie's attention had been caught by a new arrival. "I apologize, Dame Rose, Sir Doctor, I must not neglect my duties to our other guests. Perhaps we could speak later?"

After a few reassurances, Niserie placed a small kiss on Blade's cheek and stepped away from them, but not before the Doctor caught one small almost unnoticeable gesture.

Rose and Blade were talking about the construction of the roof, which thankfully was working properly this year. He waited until the conversation had started to lag before jumping in.

"Your Companion is quite lovely."

"Mm. Thank you, Sir Doctor. I would say the same of yours except for the fact that I'm quite fond of my face." He winked at Rose who giggled.

"Will it be your first child?"

Blade looked quickly around the room. "Tch. We do not speak of such things so early, Sir Doctor. It is considered the height of bad luck to do so."

"My apologies, Premier Blade --"

Rose's hand squeezed his. "There is a similar custom on my planet, Premier," she said. "Some women do not share their news until fully a third of the pregnancy has passed."

He scanned the room until he found Niserie Blade, then opened his time senses. She was not far along at all, only four or five weeks. A boy, who would follow in his father's footsteps quite nicely.

The Doctor opened his mouth to tell Blade what he had seen, but another squeeze of Rose's hand had him stopping. He looked down at her, not realizing that his time senses were still fully active until he did so.

"Oh, Rose --"

She flushed. "Turn it off."

Why would he want to do that when the single most brilliant thing to ever happen in his life had just been made known to him? Then he remembered what she'd said, a third. Another eight weeks then, at least, before she would feel comfortable talking to others about it. So, despite the fact that he wanted to run around passing out cigars to all of the men at the party - why cigars anyway? They were incredibly unhealthy - he shut down his time senses.

Blade looked from him to Rose. "Ha. Fully a third, Dame Rose?"

She smiled crookedly and Blade chuckled.

"Mm. I'll leave you now, Dame Rose and Sir Doctor. Please enjoy the party." With another quick grasp of Rose's hands he left them.

"Rose?"

"Is it hot in here all of a sudden?"

"No. In fact, the temperature is a steady --" Rose was already heading for the open terrace doors, despite the fact that the ceiling was open to the night air and it would surely be the same temperature on the terrace as in the hall.

He walked up behind her when she stopped and slipped his arms around her waist, resting them on her flat stomach. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She leaned into him. "It was too early to be sure. I also thought maybe you would have known from the beginning."

"I watched you very closely the first time. I didn't want there to be unintended consequences to what we did then. I'll admit, I've been less diligent lately."

"I was a little surprised. After all, it's been a year."

"Cross-species, Rose. It's not a guarantee. We're lucky, luckier than some couples."

Her voice wavered a bit. "Is it healthy? There's no problems because we're two different species?"

How much would she want to know? "I could tell you quite a lot from the few seconds I saw," he probed gently.

She shook her head. "I just want to know if it will be born healthy."

He stopped himself before he could divulge the sex. "It will."

"Good," she said, her whole body relaxing as tension flowed out of her. "I was worried."

"You're brilliant, you know, mother-of-my-child. I love you."

"I love you, too, father-of-my-child." They stood together looking out at the stars in the Emin sky as the sounds of the party going on inside floated out to them. "So, forever?" she whispered.

"Forever," he agreed. And somehow that one word was perfect.

Take my hand  
'Cause we're walking out of here  
Oh, right out of here  
Love is all we need here  
\- "The Space Between," Dave Matthews Band 

* * *


End file.
